Once Upon A Time (You Found Me)
by justsomebrittanagleek
Summary: He's got the life, he's got the looks, he's got the money — he has everything he needs. Well, that's what he thinks until on one Monday morning, he receives an invitation. Genderswap!Santana/Brittiago
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Once Upon A Time (You Found Me) [1/3]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Length:** 10.8k  
**Summary:** He's got the life, he's got the looks, he's got the money — he has everything he needs. _Well_, that's what he thinks until on one Monday morning, he receives an invitation.

**Notes:** Brittiago fic! My first try, and if you don't know what it is then it's gender bent Santana but normal Brittany. Had a weird feeling to write this and this is what came of my feels.

* * *

Santiago loves New York City.

He loves the early mornings, the sound of the traffic, the yellow cabs that seem to be _everywhere_, the lights at night, the overcrowded sports bars and he _especially_ loves the women.

They come in all different varieties and not that he's cocky or self-assured or anything, but he's had his fair share of them. It's something he prides himself on now that he can, since high school wasn't exactly the best time for him in terms of romance, relationships or just one night stands. He wasn't exactly like that back then.

It's not like he was unattractive in high school, he just sort of had an eating problem.

Not of those psychological ones or medical ones that needed pills or therapy; he just liked to eat food, which meant he was always a little... _larger_ than normal boys.

He was on the football team, so it's not like he was a nerd or bottom of the social pile or anything, and he had the second in command of the Cheerio squad, Brittany, as his best friend, so he was popular. High School was good for him...

...Apart from the fact he fell into the same cliché as every other guy on the football team and had _the_ biggest crush on the head cheerleader, one Miss Quinn Fabray.

She was perfect. She had brilliant, golden hair, bright, white and very straight teeth (that must have come from braces at some point,) the prettiest eyes _ever_ and a smile to die for. The air she breathed was incredible, the scent that came off her was heavenly and she had this weird power over everyone where one flash of that grin, or one look with those eyes, would make them melt. She was just incredible, and Santiago doesn't know when he fell for her, but he did, and boy did he fall hard.

But, of course, put him next to Noah Puckerman or Sam Evans, and Santiago knew he didn't really have a chance.

Puck has a bad ass mohawk, a bad boy reputation, a leather jacket and a motorbike outside the school, and even though those things sound like they should make him super lame and put him back with the T-Birds and Danny Zuko and Kenickie, it weirdly worked for him. It made him cool and he also had a charming smile and the ability to seduce _any_ woman, which was a bonus too.

Then there was Sam Evans. A dorky, fish lipped blonde who was weirdly charming with his comic book knowledge and ridiculously chiseled abs. His family background wasn't too great, so it's not like he was rich, but that played the sympathy card—whether that was played on purpose, Santiago doesn't know—but it worked with the girls.

So yeah, put those two next to Santiago, and really, it was pretty clear who would be left alone whilst the other two ran off with crowds of girls chasing them.

But now it isn't like that; now he has this new life in New York City and honestly, it's fucking _amazing_.

He has an incredible body—a finely framed six pack, if he may say so himself—he has the charm, the wit, the humor, the smile, the popularity and most definitely the sex appeal. He has a great job as the sports anchor for ESPN, he's pretty rich, he has a great studio apartment in Manhattan and just yeah, his life really is amazing.

See, after high school, he didn't go to college like his best friend and all his friends did. His self-esteem was lacking, he had no motivation to do anything and even though to fill his ambition and get his dream job, he should've probably gone to Northwestern or Arizona State or something to study broadcast journalism, he just didn't.

But then one day, he remembers it so clearly, he looked in the mirror and just knew he wanted a change. He wanted something different; working at Taco Bell in a dead end job and being teased for being overweight just wouldn't cut it. He wanted something more and in that moment, he chose to work for it. He chose to do something about it and so the next thing he knew, he was coughing up $50 each month for a gym membership, he was applying for internships in every available state for a job and was going for his goal.

It took a while, but all good things do, and one day, he got a call from ESPN saying they needed a running boy and if he was fit enough, and willing to work for less than minimum wage and ridiculous hours, he could have the job. It wasn't exactly the offer he wanted, but he did it anyway, knowing he was going to have to work his ass off.

And that's how he ended up here, really.

Within two years he'd dropped forty pounds, was built like Taylor Lautner and was being promoted above his peers from fetching cups of coffee and bagels to writing scripts and eventually getting a few moments on air for the sports announcement. That transpired into something more and here he is, the top rated sports anchor of ESPN.

He's got the life, he's got the looks, he's got the money; he has everything he needs.

_Well_, that's what he thinks until on one Monday morning, he receives an invitation.

* * *

_The McKinley High School Reunion of Class 2012_

That's all Santiago sees before he's on his phone, calling his mom and telling her that he's going to be home in a fortnight as Rachel Berry has organized a school reunion. His mom cheers and celebrates when he tells them he's coming home for the weekend, and he rolls his eyes when she begins babbling on about Mrs. Hagberg next door and her newly adopted cat. He swears that must be the seventeenth one she's got but he doesn't really care, if he's honest the woman's grouchy and old and used to chase Santiago around her garden with a golf club. He's still a little scared of her.

When he manages to get off the phone to his mom, he rings work and tells them he needs that weekend off. They don't get shitty with him, they can't, he's their top sports anchor and losing him would put them in serious trouble, so they accept and he smirks as he hangs up abruptly.

Then he grabs a beer, slumps onto the sofa and smiles to himself.

Two weeks and he's going home.

He can't wait.

* * *

The reunion's on the Sunday, but he heads back on Thursday night and uses the spare key beneath the flower pot—not exactly a hidden place, he knows—to sneak in. The house is quiet which either means his parents are out or asleep and so he tries to keep quiet, tip-toeing around and climbing the stairs stealthily toward his room.

It's exactly the way he left it. The walls are still black, there's still pictures of Bob Marley up on the wall from when he went through that weird Rastafarian stage which sounds a lot cooler than it was. The phase lasted a week. He spent two of those days stoned out his mind with some stoner kid called Brett in a basement somewhere just outside of town, then for the rest of the week sat in his room wearing nothing but green, yellow and red, listening to a random reggae playlist on Spotify and stuck a picture of Bob up on the wall. It was a strange phase, but eventually someone came along and kicked his ass back to normality.

He falls to the bed face first the moment his bags hit the floor, and he wonders if he should wake up his parents and tell them he's here. But the warmth and comfort of the bed seems just too inviting and that thought quickly shoots from his mind.

He'll say hello tomorrow..

* * *

When he wakes it's to the smell of eggs and bacon. A smile tugs at his lips immediately and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes and groaning at the muscles aching in his back. He really should've changed and got into bed properly last night; it would've saved the pain this morning.

He clambers out of bed, stripping the clothes from his body piece by piece until he's left in just his boxers. He tugs the duffel close to him and yanks out a Star Wars t-shirt, not caring how dorky it is, since he and his parents are gonna be the only ones to see it, and slides his arms through, pulling it over his head next.

His feet drag as he stumbles across the landing and down the stairs, tripping on the last one but catching himself. He can hear the low sound of his mom humming to whatever's playing on the radio and walks through the living room to the kitchen, taking note that nothing's changed since he's been here. The coffee table, the sofa and the TV are all in the same place, picture frames too. There's literally nothing different and it brings a strange warmth to his chest as he takes it all in; there really is no place like home.

"I know you've never been that graceful but honestly dear, you could've at least _tried_ to be a little quieter last night."

He blinks, confused and stops in his place, peering around the kitchen to see if his mom's talking to anyone else, yet there's no-one there. His mom's getting old, but she can't be _that_ old that she's turned into a crazy lady that talks to herself.

"Yes, Santiago," his mother turns around from where she's standing at the stove, frying pan in hand, and moves toward the kitchen table, sliding some eggs and three slices of bacon onto a place whilst her eyes flick up to him. "I'm talking to you."

His mouth drops open, crinkle forming between his thick brows and he shakes his head. Him arriving was supposed to be a surprise. He didn't even know she knew he was here and his plan to sneak up on her or just suddenly be there when she turned around from cooking has totally been ruined now.

That sucks.

"How'd you know I was here?" He says, scratching the back of his neck and moving to the table.

She shoots him a look. "Like I said, Tiago, you're not exactly graceful." She rounds the table and drops a kiss to his forehead, her hand rubbing at his shoulder. "But it's nice to have you back, honey."

He chuckles to himself, grabbing at the knife and fork already laid out and sighs as he takes the first bite. Shit, his mom's breakfasts have always the best. They're so good he actually has to kick himself to remember why he ever left Ohio.

Right, 'cause he didn't want to be a Lima Loser anymore.

Which reminds him, actually, he doesn't know who else is around here.

"Hey, ma?" He calls through a mouthful. "Who lives around here still? Anyone from my high school?"

His mom grabs the pot of freshly brewed coffee and then a mug from the cupboard above the stove. She twists around leans back against the counter and pours it slowly, her mind drifting off with thought. It's a few moments later when she has an answer, but by then she's already sitting down at the table, sliding the mug toward Santiago.

"Do you remember Tina and Mike Chang?"

He nods, slowly. He wasn't really friends with that lot. They were into that weird ass Glee club. Still, he's not rude and he's changed a lot since high school so they might have changed too. "Yeah?"

"They got married last Spring and have their second child on the way," his mother informs him, nodding into the sip she's taking. "And Noah Puckerman and Sam Evans?"

Santiago's ears perk up. "Where they at?"

"Noah has a pool cleaning business and Sam works down at the swimming center now as a lifeguard."

He nods, just to be polite, and makes a mental note to go and say hello, partly so he can smirk as they both look over the once fat kid and suddenly become scared that he's hotter than them, but that's neither here nor there. He sits there munching on his breakfast and carries on listening as his mom tells him about some other people, but then she brings someone else up, someone that makes him stop eating and snap his head toward her at the same time.

"Wha—what?" He stutters, a piece of egg falling from his mouth. "Who?"

"Brittany," his mom repeats casually. "She still lives in Ohio. Never left, actually."

Santiago's eyebrows rise and he jerks his head back a little. He hasn't talked to Brittany in what, six years? Shit.

See, Brittany Pierce was the closest thing he had to a best friend back in high school. He was popular and most of the football guys were his friends, but he never really clicked with any of them. It just so happened though when the football squad was introduced to the cheerleaders, that they would spend the following year traveling to games with and spending time with after practice (sleeping with too, but Coach Bieste never said that out loud), he found a friend in Brittany Pierce.

It was a weird sort of friendship, one that came out of nowhere, but he didn't mind. Brittany was Quinn Fabray's—the head cheerleader and hottest of all hotties—right hand woman, and he figured he couldn't go wrong being friends with her. But as time went on, he realized that he actually wanted to be friends with Brittany, and not because it was just another way to attempt to get Quinn to notice him.

They spent a strange amount of time together, in and out of school. At lunch they'd always sit together, and during their water breaks in practice, they'd always spend that together, too. Everyone who was on the outside thought they were dating, but that was stupid because Santiago was into Quinn and Brittany would never be into him anyway. Plus it was known that Brittany was sleeping with—possibly dating—Sam Evans at that point too, so their relationship was purely platonic.

Although, saying that, there were a few times when they'd be at one of their houses—their parents didn't buy into the 'just friends' thing so required an open door policy—and they'd be on a bed, or a sofa or whatever, and they'd always end up in compromising positions. Compromising only because they'd end up with their faces inches away, breathing heavy and smiles slowly dropping off their faces as they realized _just_ how close they were.

It was what Santiago would've called a 'almost kiss' moment, but it never happened. One of them would pull out of it or someone would shout to them or walk in and they'd spring apart, almost as if they'd just been caught with their hand caught in a cookie jar. Never was it spoken about, but they both knew it would be a bad idea and really, in what world would Brittany fucking Pierce _ever_ be into Santiago Lopez? Especially back then.

Plus, they were friends anyway, good friends at that.

Still though, he can't help but feel a slight clench in his chest at the mention of her again. He hasn't spoken to her in so long and he doesn't even have a reason why. They just stopped getting in contact with each other at some point and that was that.

"She never left?" He asks, voice peaking in pitch. He coughs to return it to normal. "Why not?"

His mom presses her lips together in thought, pushing up with one hand to aid her in standing. She grabs his empty plates and shrugs, walking back to the sink and he smiles; his mom always treats him like a little kid when he's here, and he kind of loves it.

"Just never did, I guess," she says, putting the dish in the sink and peering over her shoulder to look at him. "She works at your old elementary school, just in case you were wondering."

Santiago seems indifferent but his chest jumps at the information. He rests forward, elbows on the table top as he sips at his coffee, nodding but keeping a straight face. His mother smirks, thinking he didn't see, but turns back to the dishes and it's only a painful minute before he's swallowing the last of his coffee—ignoring the way it burns his throat—and taps the table.

"I'm gonna go get dressed and go out," he says smoothly, trying to be subtle, but by the look on his mom's face, he doesn't think it worked. "Just gonna walk around for a bit," he continues like they both don't know where he's _really _going.

Still his mom nods and doesn't give him the eye. "You can take my car if you need it."

He stops at the doorway and grins at his mom, hoping she was going to offer and sort of happy she didn't say anything about his sudden eagerness to leave. "Thanks, ma. See you later."

He leaves before he gets to see his mother laugh and shake her head knowingly.

* * *

Security at elementary schools has certainly elevated since Santiago last came to one.

It's understandable, really, but it sort of ruined his plan of sneaking in and surprising Brittany.

Well, _ish._

He backs away from the receptionist glaring at him and heads back out the school, pretending like he's going to leave. Except when he gets out of sight, and around the corner, he turns into James Bond and dives into 'special agent' mode. He knows this school like the back of his hand, he used to come here after all, and manages to sneak into the playground, weaving around the side so he doesn't look _too_ much like a creeper seeing as some kids are all out for recess.

It would look _so_ bad if he were caught ducking behind hedges so he wasn't seen though, so he picks up the pace and moves a little quicker.

He makes it toward the back entrance of the school and slides inside unseen. He shifts the leather jacket covering his torso and shakes his head, running his hands through his short, dark hair, as the wind sort of screwed it up outside, whilst walking through the school, peering inside each classroom he passes.

Now, with the knowledge that he has, or that he did have when he came here, there are only two classrooms left, so he tries one, but no luck, and so when the last one comes into view, he sucks in a deep, shaky breath. Brittany's probably in there and God, he's missed her. His hands actually shake as he reaches for the door handle, but this is ridiculous. He shouldn't be nervous; maybe a little scared as he hasn't got in contact with the girl for so long, but nervous? No.

He pushes the emotion away and pulls his hand back, switching from choosing just to open the door handle to knocking softly on the door once, twice, three times.

He hears a small "come in" from the other side and braces himself as he pushes the door open, breathing out and freezing immediately the moment he steps over the threshold because _shit_, apparently not _all_ the kids are out for recess.

Which means Santiago's just walked in on a full classroom.

_Fuck._

"Can I help you?" The voice says and Santiago tucks his thumbs into his jean pockets, squaring his shoulders to find the source and sure enough, he does, but the source just isn't looking back at him.

Instead, the source of the voice is facing the interactive whiteboard, writing something in loopy handwriting across the top of it, but Santiago can't really focus on that because his eyes are too firmly focused on the perfect ass covered in tight black pants, sticking out as its owner stretches onto the tips of her toes to reach the very top of the whiteboard, choosing to continue writing instead of seeing who's at the door.

He smirks to himself and swallows, completely forgetting that there are like, twenty pairs of small eyes on him as he moves one step closer into the classroom.

"Uh, yeah... Is Bri—Miss Pierce, here?" He asks, figuring the children here must call her by that name instead of her forename.

And then she turns around and Santiago's mind goes blank because really, he should've noticed it before. This girl isn't just anyone, she's the one he was looking for.

"Yes, I'm Miss—_San_?" Brittany half-screeches the moment their eyes lock, recognition sinking in and Santiago's face lights up, splitting into a grin simultaneously. That's _her_. "Oh my Gosh!"

Before he can even do anything, there's a few fast footsteps and then arms are wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. His hands shoot to Brittany's hips instantly, and he blinks as her scent wafts up from her skin, trying not to let his eyes flutter because _shit_, she smells _really_ good. He bites down on his tongue to keep back the gasp threatening to spill as the heat from Brittany's touch flares across his skin, and he wonders why the hell he's getting such a warm reception. It's not that he's complaining or anything, though.

"You're here," is whispered into his ear and he nods against Brittany's hair. "You're back."

"Yeah, Britt. I'm here," he murmurs equally as lowly, back.

Brittany's head turns and lips brush against the shell of his ear. He desperately fights the urge to shudder and instead chooses to listen. "I've missed you."

It's said with such affection that his brow quivers and he's forced to pull away, clearing his throat with a short cough and putting a respectable distance between them. But Brittany's always been a touchy person and she steps closer, hands coming up to grasp the lapels of his jacket as blue eyes roam his face with utter awe. Apparently she doesn't have the same reservations as Santiago, but he supposes that's to do with New York. That place seems to toughen people and he's not used to small town affection.

"I've missed you, too, B," he says back through a chuckle, letting his eyes do a once over of her body.

She looks fucking amazing. Her hair's longer, straight and finishing just below her breasts, she's got a little more curve to her body, but she still moves with her eighteen year old dancers grace. Her make-up's light, just like it always was but she's still breathtakingly beautiful and he can't help but smile as he looks into her eyes. They're still bright and clear, and he thought they may have faded with time but he was definitely wrong. If anything, it looks like someone just shined some polish onto them and he's honestly astounded by how she looks.

She looks a little more mature obviously, and damn, she was hot back in high school but this is completely different. She's on a whole new level of sexy and he finds himself gulping as he stares at her.

"You look great."

Brittany's face glows with his words and she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. "You too, San," she breathes out, lips curving into a smile, and then their eyes meet and that's it.

They stay just looking at the subtle differences—well, for Santiago, _major_ differences—and it lasts for a good five minutes before one of the children in the classroom begins giggling and well, at that age, giggling is just contagious so it's only a few seconds later that the entire classroom is laughing childishly. Brittany even begins to giggle herself as she snaps back into reality, stepping back from Santiago and placing herself between the aisles of the tables, hands thumbing the hem of her shirt nervously.

"San, this is my class," she says, waving her hands either side of her. "And class?" She turns to them and presses her hands to her hips, but by the way her head tilts, Santiago knows she's smiling. "This is my friend, Santiago. Say hello."

The entire classroom says "good morning, Santiago" in a collective drone and he smiles, chuckles lightly and lifts a hand, awkwardly waving toward them.

"Hey, guys."

They all stare at him and it's slightly intimidating, but he just looks away and focuses on the array of different shaped paper fishes stuck to the board that covers the entire width of the right hand wall. In the center he picks out one that says 'Miss Pierce' and it's covered in crayon. Apparently some things never change.

"Right, class," Brittany claps her hands together and skips back to the interactive whiteboard, picking up one of the pens and turning again, rising to the tips of her toes to continue writing. "Read what's on the board and then turn to page seventeen in the textbooks in the center of your tables and answer sections A and B. If you need any help then I'll be right outside," she finishes writing whatever's on the board and then turns back to the children. "Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Pierce," they all drone out simultaneously again and Brittany grins at them before skipping back towards Santiago, grabbing his hand and dragging him outside the classroom and into the hall again, not breaking the skin contact even when they've stopped and are facing each other. He swallows and tries to ignore the way his skin tingles against Brittany's as their eyes meet again.

"I can't believe you're back," Brittany says and a crinkle forms in her eyebrows with disbelief. Her voice is breathy and it makes him smile, but the second he goes to make a comment about it it's gone, and so is the contact with her as she drops their clasped hands.

"The reunion is on Sunday," he points out, ignoring the way his palm instantly feels ice cold from the loss of contact. "But I thought I'd come home a little earlier just to catch up with everyone. Obviously I didn't really think seeing you through though," he chuckles awkwardly, tucking one hand into his pocket whilst the other one rubs at the back of his neck. "My mom didn't tell me you were a teacher, just said you worked here."

Brittany smiles softly, blue eyes twinkling. "I'm not. Just an assistant but the teacher's sick today, so," she shrugs and leaves the rest of the sentence for interpretation. Santana nods and smiles back, dropping his vision to the floor where his converse is skidding along the linoleum floor. "San?"

He looks up. "Yeah?"

"Do you wanna catch up later? I mean, I'm teaching now," she peers back into the classroom quickly. "So I can't right now but," her hand reaches forward to grab at his, squeezing gently. "I really wanna catch up with you."

The way she says it makes his chest feel a little tighter, and he almost slaps himself for feeling like this. Seriously, why is he? He's been around Brittany before and they've been fine, what's with the sudden change?

"Yeah," he manages to get out, realizing he hasn't answered. "I wanna catch up with you, too."

Brittany's smile transforms into a grin, her body rocking as she tips onto the balls of her feet, bouncing excitedly. It's something she's always done and he finds it nothing but endearing right now. Some things definitely don't change.

"Awesome. How about the Lima Bean after I get off work? Around 4?"

He grins and nods, feeling excitement buzz through his skin until he almost copies the woman in front of him and begins bouncing on his feet, too. But he's a grown man, he can't do something like that, so with the other millions of things he's forced back today, he does the same to that urge and shoves his hands into pockets, nodding casually.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll see you there?"

"Definitely," Brittany beams and Santiago doesn't realize what's happening until she's pulling away and skipping back into the room with a smile. Even then, he reaches up and presses the tips of his fingers to the tingling skin where Brittany's warm lips were only seconds ago.

He just coughs, realizing what he's doing and looks around the empty hallway as the hand drops from his face, ignoring the way blood rushes to his cheeks.

* * *

He gets to the Lima Bean fifteen minutes early.

It's not like he means to or anything, he just miscalculated the time it took to drive from his house to the coffee shop. But hey, he hasn't been back to Ohio in well over six years so it's not unlikely that he forgot how long it would take.

He walks in and immediately shivers at the change in temperature, shaking the cold from his face. Outside it's chilly and the moment he walked in he was blasted by hot air from whatever the opposite of an air-conditioning unit is, but he doesn't focus on that too long, instead buzzing with excitement as his eyes flick around the shop, trying to find golden hair and crystal blue eyes.

Although, he is fifteen minutes early, so when he realizes Brittany isn't here yet, he sinks back down to the floor and heads over to the counter, not too disappointed with the lack of company.

He orders a coffee and a cookie and sits down in a window seat, propping one foot up on the little ledge covering the base of the window and keeping the other one on the floor where it taps along to the beat of the dimmed music playing overhead. His fingers toy with the edge of the cookie, occasionally picking off a piece and bringing it to his mouth, but otherwise he's just staring out the window, watching people walk by and thinking about how he feels like an outsider now.

It feels like everyone _knows_ he's not from around here. It's like he has some weird big city stench coming off him and the moment he walked into the Bean he felt eyes snap to him like he was stepping on foreign territory. In some ways, he feels like this isn't really his home anymore; he feels like this is just a place he grew up in, his hometown and that's all it'll ever be now he lives in the Big Apple. It sort of upsets him in that way, because this is where he started off and grew up. This is where he had that revelation and knew that he wanted more from his life than a small town and a minimum wage paycheck.

Without this place, he wouldn't be the man he is today and don't get him wrong, he loves New York to bits, he freaking _loves_ everything about it, but now that he's here, back in Lima, he's realized how much he's missed this damn place. He's missed the little things about this place and even though he knows back in New York he's got everything; the money, the job, the apartment, the life, it's just not the same. Sure, it's not like he's lonely there, he's semi-famous and he's got loads of friends, but it's just not the same as here.

Lima's one of those places where you could walk down the high street and bump into ten people you know. It's one of those places where you could go into a bakery every morning and Mrs. Walker—the baker's wife—would smile at you and hand you the same loaf of bread, ready and packed for you. It's one of those places where people know your name and not because you're on their TV every morning. It's one of those places where you can call up your best friend and tell her you'll be over in a minute for a night of movies and junk food, and she wouldn't say no because she was going out to a bar for the night or because work was making her stay late because no-one ever works past 6pm here.

It's just one of those places you can call home, in spite of all it's small town faults, and honestly, he misses that.

Those thoughts take up so much of his mind that fifteen minutes just blurs by, and before he knows it there's a finger tapping on his shoulder and the breaths hitching in his throat as he turns and finds Brittany looking down at him, grinning.

"Hey, San," she breathes out, her nose a little pink, ears tinged that color, too.

Santiago's lips curve up at the side and his chest squeezes at the sight of his ex-best friend. He stands, like the gentleman he is, but then freezes, staring at the woman, unsure how to greet her. That only lasts until he shakes his head and figures he should greet her like he would any other girl friend, so he tugs her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Her chin fits perfectly over his shoulder—he's just that little bit taller—and they embrace for a few seconds, sinking into each other and breathing each other in until they realize they probably shouldn't be hugging for this long, especially in the middle of a coffee shop. Santiago breaks it and immediately avoids Brittany's face, suddenly fearing what it'll have on it after that weirdly long hug, and steps toward her chair, pulling it out and gesturing for her to sit down.

A grateful smile cracks across her face, a slight blush dusting her cheeks and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she slides into the seat, scooting forward with his aid. The one thing his mom always taught him was manners, and especially how to treat a lady. It's actually part of his charm as it's hard to find a gentlemen around town these days, especially in New York.

He moves back to his seat and sits down, wetting his lips as he edges toward the table, and the moment they're both comfortable and staring at each other, Santiago freezes. Why does this feel so much like a date? Why does it feel like he's courting Brittany or something? It's not a date. They're just friends. That's what they're best at.

Still, there's still that feeling lingering within his mind.

His elbows touch the table and he clears his throat, smiling softly at the woman across from him. "So," he starts, but quickly stops when he takes note of the empty state of Brittany's side of the table. Shit, she doesn't even have a drink. He didn't buy her one. Yep, real smooth, Lopez. "Crap, sorry... I didn't get you a coffee," he mumbles, almost punching himself in the head. If this were a date, he would've screwed it up already.

Brittany giggles, rubbing her hand across her nose and Santiago fights the feeling of overwhelming cuteness he gets as he watches his friend. She really is fucking adorable.

"You don't need to get it for me," she whispers and glances up through thick eyelashes. "I can get it myself."

He's so distracted by how cute she is that he almost doesn't register what she says, but he kicks himself back into action quickly and jolts from the table, insistent on buying her a coffee. He did come back after all and he's the guy so, you know, it's just the way things work, even if this isn't a date.

"No, I'll get it," he tells her and she flashes him another one of her slightly dazzling, grateful smiles. "Caramel mocha with extra whipped cream right?"

It's the same order Brittany used to get all those years ago when they'd come here. Admittedly, it wasn't often, since being on the football team and the Cheerios did take up a lot of time, and whenever they weren't training for that, they were sprawled out across one of their beds, doing homework or complaining about how exhausting high school was. But that was what Brittany would always get whenever they did manage to come here.

Something twinkles in blue eyes as Brittany stares at him, and he feels something stir, or flutter or whatever, low in his stomach. She's looking at him with a slight edge of disbelief, almost like she can't believe that he remembers after all this time but he just ducks his chin to his chest and shrugs, playing it off cool even though yeah, it is kind of weird he remembers it. _Especially_ seeing as he doesn't even know what Puck or Sam's favorite orders are or were and the three of them used to come here together all the time.

But whatever. He's just gotta remember how this _isn't_ a date, no matter how much it feels like it.

* * *

He's handing over a ten dollar bill at the counter when someone behind him rudely clears their throat; and he's not dumb, he's lived in New York long enough to know that that's a polite 'hurry the fuck up.' Hell, he's _been_ one of those people that's cleared their throat so the person in front would hurry up. He knows an impatient ass when he sees one and so you know what, he's just gonna take his time. It's the only way to deal with people like that.

Though it seems this person isn't taking too well to how he's deliberately passing over the bill in slow motion and so they decide to clear their throat again, a little louder too and shit, now _he's_ getting pissed off. The best thing though, is that he knows how to scare people like that. Small town impatient ass' are _nothing_ in comparison to the people you meet in New York who do the same thing and so he's gonna give them a piece of his mind.

He spins around, tongue ready to whip out the 'back up off my grill' speech with a daunting expression when he comes face to face with stunning hazel eyes and a bright, white smile and fuck, _of course_ he'd have to know the person coughing behind him. _Of course_ he'd have to instantly recognize her and for her to instantly recognize him, too. _Of course_ it'd have to be someone he was hoping to run into this weekend but wasn't hoping so much to run into here because he's not prepared.

Because _of course_ though, the 'impatient ass' would _have_ to be Quinn Fabray, wouldn't it?

The world just would just tip off its axis if it didn't manage to shock Santiago somehow.

"Whoa, Quinn Fabray."

He doesn't even realize he said that out loud until a perfectly shaped eyebrow quirks and a sly smile tugs at the corner of Quinn's lips, but when he does, he almost runs out the Bean right then, jumps in his moms car, drives to the nearest lake and drowns himself because _shit_, he was supposed to be fucking _prepared_ for this! He was supposed to be smooth and charming and now he just looks like an idiot, and not in one of those endearing ways either.

So much for making an impression.

"Santiago Lopez..." Quinn almost purrs and his heart leaps into his throat. Hot damn she has such a sexy voice, not to mention he's trying not to celebrate that she remembers _and_ recognizes him. She tilts her head to the side and shows a half smirk. "You're back from the big city."

If there's one thing he knows, is when a woman's attracted to him. It's something he uses in bars and clubs back in NY to pick up chicks, along with his variety of chat up lines and his extreme charm, but that's not really the point here. The point is, is that he _knows_ when a woman wants him, and now that he's standing here in front of Quinn fucking Fabray, he can tell that she wants him and he's_ actually_ in with a chance.

Fucking score.

"And with a brand new look, I see," she continues and Santiago smirks. Yep, he's totally in with a chance. Time to switch on the Lopez skill.

He nods slowly and wets his lips, lifting his chin a little as he speaks. "You could say I've changed a little over the years, and you would know if you were a sports kind of girl."

He throws in a wink after and Quinn giggles. She fucking _giggles_. This is gonna be easier than he thought.

"And why's that?" She fires back, running her tongue along her lower lip teasingly and crossing her arms over her chest.

Santiago knows her game though, he watched it for years in high school—in the _least_ creepiest way possible—so he knows what to say and what to do. Which is why he reaches toward her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and flashes a smile down at her.

"I'm kind of a big deal at ESPN," he says casually with a shrug, and he knows he's bragging and that he kind of sounds like a douche, but so what? Six years ago he was fat and was working in Taco Bell for fucks sake. He's come a long way and he'll be damned if he isn't going to whip it out to try and charm someone, especially when that someone is Quinn fucking Fabray.

"Oh, yeah?" Quinn asks, and she's interested, in more than just the job, too. He's got this in the bag. "Do you work there?"

He sniffs and looks away, smiling. "You could say that," he drawls out, slowly glancing back at her. Rule one of trying to charm someone: never give too much away. The details and information is for the date. "So what about you? What do you do?"

"Freelance photographer," she gestures to the camera hanging around her neck and squints at him slightly. "It's something I'm passionate about."

"Sounds interesting," he replies and leans forward, turning up the Lopez skill a little more. "I'd like to know more, if you're willing to tell me."

Putting the ball in her court; good move.

Quinn tugs her bottom lip between her lip and both of them know exactly what's going on here. That was one of the most attractive things about Quinn was that she never beat around the bush; if she wanted something she went straight for it and right now, he won't lie, he's hoping things are going to go his way.

And they do.

"I think I'd be okay with that," she says through a smirk.

He steps closer. "How about over dinner then? Tonight, maybe?"

Quinn doesn't even blink by the proximity of Santiago's body nor is she caught off guard by his forwardness. Instead, she presses her lips together, smirking slightly and cocks a brow, mirroring Santiago's movement and edging closer to him until he can feel her hot breath beating against the hollow of his throat. He gulps quietly, licks his lips and waits for the answer, but instead of giving one, Quinn just blindly reaches over the counter, plucks a pen off the cash machine and then grabs one of Santiago's large hands. She brings it between them, resting it a little _too_ close to her cleavage and scribbles down her number on the back of his hand, eyeing it for a few moments before she's happy and drops the pen back to the counter.

Then she's on the balls of her feet, leaning into Santiago and pulling him down with a hand curled at the nape his neck, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Just text me the time and the place," she whispers and he can hear the smirk in her tone. She pulls back a little, not much though and bats her lashes at him, murmuring, "See you later, San," before she spins gracefully and leaves the coffee shop.

And Santiago all about dies as he watches her go, because he just asked Quinn Fabray out, fucking _Quinn Fabray,_ and the best part is she actually said yes.

At that moment, the barista slides over Brittany's caramel mocha with extra whipped cream and for that he's glad, because otherwise he totally would fist pumped the air or done a little celebration dance and God only knows that would've been embarrassing.

Clearing his throat and putting on the 'cool' act, he grabs the coffee and heads back to the table.

* * *

When he gets back to the table, Brittany's looking out the window and he immediately notices the change in her body language. Before she was open, leaning forward, arms open and face bright, but now she's all sorts of dark with a crease between her eyebrows and arms crossed over her chest, but still leaning onto the table. He looks at her curiously, unbeknownst as to why the sudden change. What's happened since he left?

He slides into his seat anyway, pushing the coffee across the table and nudging Brittany with it simultaneously until blue eyes flicker to him, but even then she doesn't smile. His face contorts with confusion and he cocks his head to the side, brows scrunching together and eyes narrowing quizzically. He's spent enough time with her to know _that_ look, but he doesn't know who's pissed her off.

"Yo, B?" He calls, poking her forearm. It's hard not to notice the way she flinches away from him like he's an open flame. "What's wrong with you?"

She lets out a heavy exhale and her shoulders relax, arms uncrossing and one hand falling to the coffee and she brings it to her, taking a long slurp before she even thinks about answering.

"Nothing," she breathes out, but it's so unconvincing that Santiago just lifts a brow in her direction, giving her that 'are you serious?' look. She shakes her head but looks over to the counter and the confusion within him just grows. "I didn't know you talked to Quinn."

Santiago falters at the expression on his friends face. "I didn't—I mean, I don't. I just ran into her at the counter."

Blue eyes flicker over him. "You seemed pretty close," she comments and he jerks his head back a little. "Ever get over your little fear and ask her out?"

There's a playful edge to her tone now and he smiles, feeling the atmosphere around them loosen a little. Brittany's now sitting comfortably again, resting her elbows on the table top and grinning at him and he mirrors her stance, but doesn't think about how small the width of the table is and ends up a hell of a lot closer than intended. But Brittany doesn't flinch, so neither does he.

"I just did," he throws back with a smirk. "Going out tonight."

Something flashes over blue eyes but the moment he notices it, it's gone.

"Working quick, San," she says through a grin, almost commending his speed. "Nice work."

He laughs throatily. "I got the skills now, Britt. Plus now I'm good looking so that helps, too," he jokes.

"You were always good looking," Brittany fires back immediately and his eyebrow lifts. That was a quick response. "You just needed the confidence."

"Which came with the looks, I guess." He shrugs and brings his coffee to his lips, sipping the lukewarm liquid. "Plus, no-one was interested in the old me, B. I had to change, and it seems it worked," he winks and raises his cup, feigning wanting to clink their cups together. "I'm now hot enough for Quinn Fabray."

Brittany's head ducks a little, her eyes falling to her coffee as she spins it in hand. "You don't know that people weren't interested in you, San," she murmurs but he hates the old pity trick. He _knows_ no-one was interested in him and Brittany's obligated to say different because she's not a bitch, and she's his friend. She has to say it.

"You don't have to say that, Britt," he tells her. "I know no-one was. Hell, the only reason I wasn't a virgin was because that Marley girl from Glee club was easy as shit and we both got especially drunk at one of Puckerman's parties," he continues through a chuckle.

Brittany just looks at him, staring for a long moment like she's trying to tell him something with her expression, before she coughs and suddenly changes the topic.

Santiago's a little curious, but he doesn't question it, just goes along with the new conversation.

* * *

After swapping numbers with Brittany and leaving the Lima Bean with a promise that they'll do something tomorrow, Santiago heads back home, nervous on the drive back.

His mom's car is a Chevy Cruze, so it's not like it's old and he can't drive it or whatever, it's just that he lives in New York which means he hasn't driven in well over six years, purely because he hasn't needed to. And this car is a damn stick shift which means he drives home grinding all the gears,which is really sort of embarrassing when it makes that really loud noise and attracts the attention of anyone within a half a mile radius.

But anyway, he gets home in once piece and swears that he's never going to drive that thing again when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out, simultaneously throwing his keys onto the kitchen table as he heads for the fridge and opens up the text on screen. It's from Brittany.

_Hey stranger. Text her yet? - B x_

He chuckles to himself, blindly reaching for the fridge door and opening it. It's packed full of groceries and he almost takes a step back, shocked by the fullness of it because back in New York he barely ever has a full fridge. In fact, he can't remember the last time, or if there even _was _a time when it looked like this, stuffed full of fresh vegetables, fruits, milk, cheese and any other food you can think of.

But he supposes it is his mom, and she always complains about how his diet probably consists of takeaways or restaurant meals and that he needs a healthy, home cooked meal every now and then. And even though he groans and moans about it, what she's saying isn't a lie, it just happens like that when you have a lifestyle like he does and he loves that his mom wants to cook for him.

He reaches inside the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, kicking the door shut with his foot as he texts back with a smile on his face.

_Not yet, woman. I've just got home. Give a man a break! ;) - S xx_

He doesn't know whether the winking face was a little too much, or whether the extra kiss was too but he doesn't care. He and Britt always used to text with those faces and that many kisses, sometimes even more if one of them were drunk or feeling a little more emotional.

Unscrewing the cap of his water, he takes a long sip and leans against the counter, preparing himself to text Quinn. After all, this moment is pretty big. His high school dreams could actually come true and he could kiss Quinn fucking Fabray tonight. Hell, he's sure if he wanted to he could probably charm his way into her pants, but he's not gonna push it that far yet. Quinn isn't one of those 'one night stand' kind of chicks. Girl needs wooing and Santiago's only too happy to do so.

Damn, he could get a girlfriend out of this.

_Stop making excuses and text her, San! Girls don't wait forever you know - B xx_

There's something in that text that makes him still on his way into the living room. He doesn't know what it is but he stares at the text and then re-reads it three times, trying to pick out why it brought this reaction out in him. But the longer he looks at it, the harder it gets to decipher why and he just ends up shaking his head and continuing his journey to the living room as he taps out a text to Quinn.

He never texts back to Brittany though, but only because he can't figure out what he's supposed to say back to that.

Was there a hidden meaning?

No, he's just being stupid, right?

* * *

He and Quinn end up going to _Breadstix._

Okay, maybe it's not glamorous or anything, but he hasn't been here in years and he even suggested they go somewhere else after he picked her up from the old Fabray household, but she insisted that they go there after he revealed how much he missed those damn bread sticks.

That conversation did include a few flirtatious glances and even a playful push from Quinn, which made him chuckle at her and earn another. Quinn Fabray has never touched him like that, nor has Quinn Fabray ever freaking flirted with him, and he has to desperately try to fight showing the excitement and overwhelming joy he feels because it's actually happening.

He's a complete gentleman the entire way through the meal, never being too forward or suggestive, pulling out her chair for her and standing from his own when she leaves for the ladies room. They talk about what they've both done in the six years since high school, and he learns that Quinn graduated from Yale with honors and a law degree since her father pushed her into it, but she chose not to go for that life.

She admits it was probably stupid to take photos for a living instead of becoming a hot shot lawyer, but it's what she enjoys, and it gives Santiago the opportunity to reach out and cover her hand with his as he tells her that it wasn't and isn't stupid and that he admires her for it, so he doesn't complain.

Their date lasts for two and a half hours, definitely longer than his usual ones and he offers to take her home afterward, to which she accepts, but she says she doesn't want the night to end just yet and so despite it being 11:30, he uses one of his after-dinner date ideas he has packed up his sleeve and they head out somewhere different.

It's not that fancy, _again_, but they end up going for a walk to Lima's viewpoint where they can see the stars. Cliché, he knows, but when he feels Quinn's hand bump against his, he doesn't really care. He slides his fingers through Quinn's and waits for his body to flare up with the touch like it did when Bri—_someone else_ touched him, but it never comes and his expression falters a little.

Luckily the darkness covers that up and he ignores it as he continues their date, pointing out a few constellations in the sky and making Quinn smile and chuckle with him. It's refreshing and he enjoys his evening, especially when he shrugs off his jacket and offers it to her when she shudders, saying she's cold, because it makes him feel wanted.

The night has to come to a close though, and he holds her hand, leads her back to the car and drives her home. He walks her to her front door—very teenage-ary, he knows—and asks if he can kiss her goodnight. She smirks at him, but nods and he leans forward, tipping her chin up with his free hand as his lips gently settle upon hers.

It's everything he wanted during high school, and he closes his eyes, expecting fireworks, but once again it never comes.

That cuts the kiss off short, but it seems Quinn's not having any of that as she grabs his collar and pulls him back down, their mouths coming back together in a harder kiss. His hands fall to her waist, his eyes squeezing shut and he desperately tries, forces even, the fireworks to come, especially hard when Quinn's tongue flicks against his lips and he takes that sign to slide his tongue into her mouth, but they just don't appear and he sort of really fucking hates that.

This is everything he wanted. Fucking _everything_, but it's not giving him that feeling, those fireworks or those butterflies and he has to admit, he's a little disappointed by it. But he still gets to kiss Quinn Fabray and he pushes the negative thoughts back, thinking that sometimes the fireworks and butterflies take time to develop, so he's just going to continue wooing Quinn until that happens.

The kiss breaks and he pulls back, wetting his lips and meeting dark, hazel eyes staring back at him. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans forward, placing one last, soft and chaste kiss on her lips before he bids her goodnight and walks away with a smile on his face.

Time; that's all he needs to get _that_ feeling.

Just time.

* * *

His phone buzzes in his jacket pocket the moment he steps through the front door to his house. When he digs it out and looks out the screen, he swears Brittany must have some psychic powers or something because that's happened before, but he shakes it off and opens the text.

_Well? How'd it go? Did your high school dream finally come true? :P - B xx_

He laughs to himself, quickly cupping his mouth to muffle the sound because it's past midnight and his parents are asleep, and texts back.

_The charming Lopez got more than a small goodnight kiss. Told you I got skills ;) - S xx_

He grabs another bottle of water from the fridge before he trudges up the stairs and heads for his bedroom. It's only a few moments later that his phone vibrates and he throws himself down onto his bed, grabbing at his phone to read the text.

_Tell me you didn't sleep with her... - B xx_

He chokes on the sip he's taking and splutters a little, wiping the corners of his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

_What kind of guy do you think I am, Britt? Damn, girl. You're hurting me here. - S xx_

Barely a blink of an eye later and there's a text on his screen again.

_Don't give me that, San. You're almost as bad as Noah... Okay, that was a little harsh. But still! Did you or did you not? - B xx_

He rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face and he leaves his phone for a moment, choosing to change quickly into a pair of sleeping shorts before he dives back into bed, quickly slipping beneath the covers and flipping his bedside lamp off.

_No, I didn't. I just gave her some sugar and when I pulled away she wanted a little more. But honestly, Britt, as bad as Puck? Are you trying to hurt me? No fair :( - S xx_

He has to admit, saying he's as bad as Noah fucking Puckerman was a little harsh, but he knows Brittany didn't really mean it. He's a lot different from Puck. See, he's not in it for the sex. Sure, that's good (most of the time) but he's not _just_ there for that. If he could be in a relationship he would, but he's just never really found a girl that's made him feel something more, made him feel like he could fall in love, or made him feel those fireworks and butterflies.

It's a little girly to think like that, but it's not like he's saying it out loud. That would totally ruin his game. That's just one of his inside thoughts that _never_ leaves his brain.

His phone buzzes on the mattress beside him again and he reaches for it.

_Glad you had a good night, San. Still wanna meet up tomorrow? Was thinking about watching the Lakers and Warriors game and getting some Chinese food or something. Not too boring for you is it? - B xx_

Santiago grins to himself. A night in with Brittany watching basketball? That sounds like one of the best ideas _ever._ Seriously, Brittany is so fucking amazing it's unreal. No wonder they used to get along so well. A girl that actually _wants_ to stay in, order in _and_ watch basketball instead of going out for the night? Yes fucking please.

_Hell no! Can't think of anything better actually, but I need to go get some new threads in the afternoon. Wanna come? - S xx_

_Someone's gotta stop you from buying another awful leather jacket ;) Come pick me up at 1? - B xx_

Once again, his eyes roll but he chuckles to himself and tucks his right hand beneath his head, using his left hand to type back.

_Shut up. You love the Grease look. I'll see you tomorrow, B - S xx_

_Yeah, San. See you tomorrow. Night *cuddles* - B xxx_

He gazes at his phone for a few moments and stares at the word between the two asterisk, feeling a weird tug at the pit of his stomach as he imagines cuddling with Brittany like they used to.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face and in the morning, he wakes to the text still open on his phone, causing him to wake up with a smile, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Once Upon A Time (You Found Me) [2/?]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Length:** 8.8k

**Notes: **Loving your response to this guys! Thank you so much for showing such interest! Enjoy and please leave a review if you can!

/

They go to the mall to buy some new clothes, and Santiago finds out that it's pretty much exactly the same as it was six years ago, apart from the odd shop here and there. He shouldn't really be surprised, but he just thought there might be _something_ different, but even the same employees are working at the shops there.

It does shock him, if he's truthful, because he knows what it was like to work at a dead end job, and he wonders whether he would still be working at Taco Bell if he hadn't had that strange epiphany and decided to kick his own ass into gear. But he supposes if they wanted something more they could've done the same as thing, so he pushes back the sympathy and focuses on having a good time with his friend.

Brittany makes him laugh, and he can't help but check her out a few times when she reaches up high to grab something off a tall clothing rack, revealing that small slither of skin between her shirt and jeans, or when she bends down to grab a pair of shoes from the ground. He's only human, and a guy at that, and the first time Brittany catches him, he goes all red, but by the third time they both laugh it off and Brittany points out that he sort of has Quinn so he can't be doing that.

The way she phrases it doesn't really process until they're leaving the mall and she says it for like, the sixth time. But then he does think about it, and after he drops her off, sees her in, then listens to her tell him he should go to the address she told him for seven o'clock and forces himself to not get giddy at how she lingers as she presses a kiss to his cheek because they're _just friends,_ he thinks about how strange what she said was.

What does she mean? He doesn't _really_ have Quinn so he can't check her out? And even if he did have Quinn, does that mean that if he didn't, the leering would be okay? Checking Brittany out would be okay because then he'd be _officially _single?

He doesn't know, but he thinks he's dwelling on it too much and rids it from his mind as he looks at the address Brittany scribbled onto a napkin whilst they were having lunch.

Why isn't he going to her house? After all, his mom did say Brittany still lived in the Pierce household.

He doesn't know, but he guesses in a few hours he'll find out.

/

Seven o'clock comes and he's standing outside the address Brittany gave him, staring up at a building, one of those rustic but attractive looking ones, and he's confused.

This is definitely the address, but it's just outside of Lima and resembles something you'd find in New York rather than Lima. It's clearly a block of apartments, but they're nice apartments, once again, like the ones you'd find back in the city, and he looks between the scribbles on the napkin and the building at least four times before deciding to head inside. He trusts Brittany and it's not like she's harbouring some six year hate for him and is now sending him to a soon-to-be-raided crack house or to a serial killer's pad, so whatever.

He taps his foot on the floor nervously as he steps into the elevator cart and presses the sixth floor button. It's the top floor and he wonders why it's not called a penthouse because it would be back in the Big Apple, but then again, this most definitely _isn't_ NY and he pushes the thought aside.

His legs lead him down a small hallway to the only door on this level and he raps his knuckles on it four times, sticking one hand in his jeans pocket whilst the other thumbs across the hem of his Jack Daniels t-shirt. He didn't really think that this sort of thing required dressing up and so he didn't, but now he's standing here outside her door, he sort of wishes he had, even though he doesn't know why.

Locks click in front of him and the door swings open seconds later, but to reveal a completely different blonde to the one he was expecting.

"Evans?"

Sam shifts in the doorway, looking equally shocked that Santiago's standing on the other side of the door. "Lopez?" He squeaks, but then his eyes flicker down the length of Santiago's body and his expression turns from shock to disbelief. "Whoa. You lost weight."

He's never been the most articulated worded person so he has to give him credit, but that's not what catches his attention. Apparently Sam isn't as shocked by his presence as he is by his appearance. But wait; what does Brittany have to do with this?

Something cold drops in his stomach as he stares at Sam and thinks of the last time he heard of him. The last time he ever saw the guy was back when he was dating Brittany, and that cold thing in his stomach drops even further until it feels like his heart just sunk out his body as he comes to a conclusion. Maybe Sam and Brittany stayed together through college? Maybe they're still dating and his brows furrow, throat lodges and eyes drop as he imagines that.

Why he reacts like that he doesn't know.

"I'll just get Britt for you," Sam says, stepping aside and looking back into the apartment. "HEY BRITT! YOU GOT A VISITOR!"

Santiago winces at the sudden jump in volume but moves over the threshold, digging his hands into his jeans pockets and squaring his shoulders. His eyes roam around the apartment and he nods subtly, appreciating the appearance of the apartment. It doesn't look like Brittany's tried to clean up the apartment too much and he really like that. He likes that Brittany can be laid back with him and he begins to chuckle beneath his breath as he takes in the things that are just _so _Brittany.

Cups of half drunk coffees are spread across every horizontal surface. There are many gossip magazines scrunched up, their corners torn, and a few empty packets of Dots there too. It's not messy at all, just not particularly clean, and he likes that she can be herself with him, especially considering it seems she hasn't changed since high school at all.

He loves it.

A high pitched scream comes from somewhere in the apartment and Santiago jerks, moves into a high crouch and narrows his eyes. His heart's now pounding against his chest and he looks to Sam who looks equally as freaked out as him, but their eye contact doesn't stay for long because the lights overhead begin to flicker, the TV begins making a weird screeching noise and then everything electric dies, leaving them in complete darkness apart from the natural moonlight filtering in from the window.

Seconds later a figure, lit by the moonlight, appears in the archway and Santiago can make out that it's Brittany.

"Um, Sam?" She whispers and there's a few shuffles and a muffled "ouch" before Sam's next to Brittany, touching her arm. It makes something turn inside Santiago and he looks away purposely, but then quickly remembers he can't actually see a damn thing and ends up just looking back to them anyway.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she mutters and as she turns her face, Santiago can make out the crease in her eyebrows. "But I think I killed the apartment..."

He doesn't know whether she's joking or not, but he still laughs and Brittany's head snaps around to him, seconds later, a laughter bursting from her lips and joining him. Apparently Sam finds it funny too, and soon enough they're all chuckling with each other.

"Well, sorry, B, but you gotta deal with this," Sam says and there's the sound of footsteps and keys clinking. "I'm going out with the boys."

It's a little insensitive, especially considering Sam's probably still Brittany's boyfriend, but before Santiago can even make a comment about that or stand up for Brittany, Sam's saying goodbye and sliding out the door, leaving them in darkness and silence.

A hand touches his arm seconds later and he jerks, unaware that Brittany had moved. A gasp catches in his throat and he breathes out shakily, feeling the fight-or-flight kick into his system.

"Jesus, Britt, you scared the crap outta me."

Brittany chuckles but keeps her hand on his arm. "Sorry," she says, honestly and he smiles. "And sorry for asking this but, is there any chance we could, um... Go to your place?" His eyebrows lift in surprise. "It's just my folks are at home and I know yours aren't at your home because they're with my parents and apparently," she draws off and he can make out her face turning as she looks around the apartment. "I've somehow managed to kill the electricity which means we can't watch the game." He can imagine the pout on her face and throws an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to comfort her. "Is that okay?" She whispers and her breath is beating against the line of his jaw. "If it's not the that's totally cool but I'll just have to find some flashlights or something. Maybe a wind up radio so we can listen to the match too..."

He lets out a bark of laughter and Brittany joins in again, but it doesn't last as long as the last time, and he nods in the darkness, until he realises she can't see it and speaks up. "Of course, Britt. You need to grab anything?"

"I bought us some beers," she shrugs and Santiago takes out his phone, flicking on the video app and turning on the flash to provide some light.

"Do you wanna take them?"

"Yeah. Can you lead me, fair Sir?" Brittany asks, faking a British accent and he laughs again, putting some distance between their bodies but letting his hand drag down her arm until he can grab at her hand. The second their palms slide against each other, fingers finding and weaving against each other, Santiago's entire body flares with a scorch. The breath catches in his throat and his eyes widen, but he's suddenly grateful for the darkness because Brittany can't see his face, and the way his eyes are bulging and lips part in shock.

He manages to shake himself out of it and tugs Brittany, with the light leading their path, through to the kitchen. He drops her hand the moment she touches the fridge and his palm is instantly ice cold, but he doesn't know why. He supposes it is a pretty chilly evening and it makes sense that Brittany's hand would be warmer as she's been inside longer, and Santiago's _just_ come in from outside.

"Do you wanna take the tortilla chips I bought us, too?"

His eyes flash to his friend through the darkness. "Yeah," he says, clearing his throat. "I'll grab them."

The packet of chips are by the sink and he picks it up, but his attention is drawn to the picture frame the strangely sits on the window ledge. It's a picture of Brittany and Sam, and they're laughing together, arms wrapped around each other, but it seems like a pretty recent photo judging by their age. He reaches for it, fingertips gingerly edging the corners of it as he takes in the image again.

"Ready to go?"

The sudden closeness of Brittany's voice makes him jerk and he spins around, clutching the chips to his chest and breathing hard. "You've gotta stop doing that," he half-pants. "Seriously. It's fucking creepy."

She giggles. "Come on, switch on your light and lead the way, San," she says and Santiago nods, grabbing his phone and flicking on the light until a patch on the floor's illuminated.

He begins walking but a hand wraps around his, fingers sliding through the gaps between his and he sucks in a quiet, shaky breath as he tries to push past this weird feeling of his stomach flipping. Maybe he ate something weird earlier and it's only just affecting him.

They get to the front door and grab Brittany's jacket before leaving, their hands never parting.

/

Santiago opens the passenger side door for Brittany and waits for her to climb in before rounding the car to get to the driver's door. He slips inside and turns on the ignition, the engine roaring to life before he peels away from the curb, cutting through the darkened streets of Lima.

"So what happened?" He asks, drumming his fingertips along the wheel.

Brittany turns, eyebrows pushed together in confusion. "When?"

"At the apartment," he elaborates. "When you killed it," he says through a smile, repeating her earlier words and she bats him playfully on the shoulder. He purposely swerves the car and grins when Brittany screams quietly. "See what happens when you hit me when I'm driving?" He teases, turning a corner.

She giggles and pulls her hand back to her lap. "I wanted to straighten my hair, but all the plugs in my room were full so I went to the bathroom—"

"Were you never told that you _shouldn't_ take electricals into the bathroom, Britt?"

"Shut up," she comments, poking her tongue out at him. "Anyway, I wanted to straighten my hair but the plug wasn't right and so I kind of... forced it in."

Santiago's eyes slide to her as they pull up to a red light. "First of all, wanky, and second of all, that's because it's probably a shaving socket. You can't put a plug into that socket."

"Well it looked like it would fit," Brittany defends, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing loudly.

"And obviously it did," he says sarcastically and blue eyes flash to him in a playful glare.

"I hate you," she murmurs and sinks further down into the seat. "But I'm going to like you for now because I don't want you to throw me out the car."

He throws his head back and lets out a throaty laugh. "I wouldn't throw you out the car, Britt," he manages to get out, letting his eyes slide to the right. "And you _know_ you don't hate me."

Blue eyes narrow at him but then Brittany just ends up scoffing and playfully hitting him on the bicep again. "Whatever. Just shut up and drive."

/

A few minutes later and they're pulling up outside the Lopez household.

He jumps out the car, reaching into the backseat to grab the beer and chips and tucks them beneath his arm before heading to the passenger side. Brittany hasn't even climbed out by the time he gets there so he opens it for her, ducking into a bow and murmuring something about how she's a fair lady and she giggles at him, which makes his stomach flip.

They walk up the path to the house, Brittany standing behind Santiago as he finds the key and slides it into the lock, but the moment he steps inside and begins heading to the living room, he notices the lack of footsteps behind him and twists to find Brittany standing just shy of the front door, staring openly at the house like she's never been in here before.

He takes a step back to her. "Britt?"

She blinks, snapping out of whatever daze she was in and looks at him. "Huh? Yeah?"

"What are you looking at?" He asks through a smile, setting the beer and chips on the table. "Is there a ghost or something?"

"No," she says after letting out a small laugh. "I just haven't been here in so long."

His eyebrows scrunch together as he steps toward her, now able to see nostalgia flash across blue eyes.

"It's just weird how we used to spend so much time here together, and now I'm back," she continues, letting out a small exhale before shaking her head again and immediately brightening up. "So let's watch the game then," she suggests, grinning and skips past, throwing herself down on the sofa. "But first grab a bowl for the chips," she says with a wink.

Santiago chucks a pillow at her as he walks past and laughs, even though he's still a little suspicious.

Whatever, he's just thinking too much into it.

/

Despite the game playing on TV and both of them getting so into it that they ended up screaming, yelling and throwing chips at the screen whenever Bryant let the ball slip, there's been a question that's been tugging at Santiago's mind ever since he turned up at Brittany's apartment earlier. Or what he assumes to be her apartment, anyway.

The first quarter comes and goes, and Brittany actually _gets up_ from the sofa, throws her arms into the air and curses at the TV when the commentator says something about how turnovers have arguably been the team's biggest weakness on offense this season and that it's 's so surprised that his friend knows so much about basketball that he forgets to ask the question, and instead just watches in amazement.

But then halftime comes. The Lakers are up by 47, the Warriors on 38, and he decides that now's a good time to ask seeing as Brittany's sitting comfortably beside him, leaning into him a little and munching on the crumbs of their once full chip packet. Although, he's a little hesitant because there's this pulling at the bottom of his stomach as the question forms in his head, and he wonders if he actually wants to know the answer.

There's something inside of him telling him he doesn't, even if he doesn't know why.

"So, Britt," he clears his throat, trying to be casual as he turns on the sofa, throwing one arm over the back behind Brittany's head. "I wanted to ask you something."

Brittany twists her torso, shoulder pressing into the back of the couch and knee curling over the top of Santiago's thigh. She grins. "Sure. What is it?"

He shifts a little, and wets his lips, avoiding looking at his friend. "You know back at your apartment?" He starts, knowing a build up is good. Gradual progression is good. "When I knocked on the door?"

An amused smile appears on Brittany's face. "Yeah, San. I know when you knocked on the door at my apartment. It was about two minutes before I killed the electricity," she jokes and the most adorable wrinkles form on her nose when Santiago shoots her a playful glare. "Sorry, yeah, you were saying?"

"Well, yeah," he scoots a little closer to her and sucks his lips into his mouth, figuring out how to say this. "I just..." He pauses and takes in a breath. "I wasn't exactly expecting... _Sam_... to be there," he finally lands on, dipping his head as he speaks. "If you know what I mean."

Brittany's eyes narrow into a squint and she nods slowly, sliding her hand from her lap onto Santiago's thigh to grab his attention when he glances away. "San... What are you trying to say?" She says, slowly, lifting both eyebrows a little. "Just ask me out straight. It's me," she shrugs and grins. "You know I'll answer you honestly."

It makes him feel a little better and he bobs his head, suddenly feeling something lodge in his throat. Why is this so damn difficult to ask? Is it because he doesn't want to know for some strange reason (that he's not going to think about because that'll open a whole new box of questions), or is it because he just doesn't like the idea that Brittany's still dating the same guy from high school? Someone who works as a lifeguard, someone who isn't good enough for her.

He exhales heavily, resisting the urge to clench his eyes shut and curse beneath his breath and looks back to his friend.

"Are you still dating Sam?" He blurts out, and he watches Brittany jerk her head back, her brows pulling together. Panic sets in and he can't even stop the word vomit as it flows from his mouth. "I mean, I know it's none of my business but it just seems you could do a little better." Brittany's eyebrows shoot up and brow eyes widen. _Fuck._ He didn't mean to say that. "Shit, no," he scoots forward and rests his hand over hers, his palm instantly warming up. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that if you are then you've been dating him for years now," his eyebrows furrow further as he rethinks his words. "Or if you had a break or whatever, then you've still been on and off since high school, and I don't want you to just settle for him because he's here and you are too."

Brittany coughs, her mouth open a little as she shifts in front of him. "Um, San—"

"I'm saying this all wrong," he cuts her off, shaking his head. "I just mean that back at the apartment he just abandoned you when the electricity was out and he's not an ass, he's a nice a guy actually, but that was kind of a douchey thing to do and I think you deserve better than him." Brittany looks at him, taking in everything with a slightly shocked expression on her face. "I'm just asking because obviously you two live together and now I'm thinking about it, you probably _are_ dating him which means I just insulted your boyfriend a lot and I really didn't mean to." He hangs his head a little, shaking it to himself. "Shit. I'm sorry, Britt, I didn't mean—"

A hand snaps out, cupping over his mouth and he whips his head up, eyes wide as they lock onto his friend. Brittany's gazing at him with bright, blue, amazed eyes and he smiles against her palm, loving the way her skin feels against his—

"Would you shut up a second?" Bursts from Brittany's mouth a second before a grin breaks out.

Santiago nods and she slowly lowers her hand, but doesn't take it away from him, instead moving it to lay over the one he has over her other hand. Their fingers slip a little but he shifts, letting hers fall into the gaps between his a little.

(He ignores the butterflies that flutter inside him.)

"Okay, right," Brittany sits up a little straighter and wiggles again, subtly moving further into him. "First of all, I'm not dating Sam," she begins and he literally feel the pressure lift from his chest. Weird. "Second of all, we just live together because we wanted to get away from our houses. Neither of us have great paying jobs and our siblings were annoying the crap out of us, so since we stayed in touch after high school, despite the break up, we thought we could just move in together."

Something washes over Santiago, something he thinks to be relief. But he's so confused as to _why_ he would be relieved by that information that he forces himself not to react.

"Thirdly, he's admitted he's still interested in me and would like to see where things go again—" Santiago's head snaps up, eyes wide. Brittany looks back with the same expression but quickly corrects herself "—but I don't really see that happening, and last but not least, I'm not even sleeping with him, haven't done so since Senior year and have no plans in doing so either." She pats his hand gently and lowers her head, looking up through thick lashes. "Okay?"

He nods but then realizes how possessive he sounded. Shit, how did he go from asking whether or not she lived with Sam to whether she's sleeping with him? Why would he even care? He doesn't, but it might seem like that now. Crap. He needs to correct that.

"Yeah, that's fine," he grumbles and tosses his head back slightly, scooting away from Brittany and propping his feet upon the table. "I don't care, anyway. I was just wondering." He shrugs and leans forward to pick up his beer. "You know how it is."

At that moment, half-time ends and the game starts again, capturing Santiago's full attention, which means he misses the way Brittany's face falls at his words.

/

"Shit!"

Santiago jerks, his beer nearly tipping onto his parents couch as his head snaps around, eyes flashing to Brittany who's holding a bowl of cheese dip in the air, cheese dripping off the edges and onto the carpet, and then to her white shirt, now covered in a sticky, yellow substance. The air reeks of fake nacho cheese flavoring and he watches as she blinks down at her shirt with wide eyes, then up at him like she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Luckily, he finds it nothing but amusing, especially when he sees the packet of Doritos spilled across the carpet next to the few splodges of cheese. His mom is not going to be happy with that, but knowing it was Brittany and not him that did it, she'll probably forgive the blonde immediately.

He rolls his eyes and smiles at the thought.

"Um, San..." Brittany trails off and he looks back to her as she sets the pot of dip onto the coffee table where cheese dribbles across the top. She picks at her top, nose wrinkling because honestly, that dip's kind of vile without it being all over you. He dreads to think how it must feel seeping through her top. "I spilt some dip."

His chest and shoulders begin heaving up and down rapidly as laughter spills from his mouth. He reaches forward, face contorting with disgust as he pokes at the clean spot on her shirt but she swats him away, shouting, "San, don't! It's gross! It'll go on the sofa!"

With the image of his mom yelling at him for ruining her couch with gross cheese dip, he chooses to stop teasing Brittany and sits back instead, staring at her with a lopsided grin. That shit would probably take at least four or five washes and even then the stench would probably still linger, so he's gonna save himself an unnecessary scalding and just watch his friend in amusement.

"A little help would be good," Brittany comments but Santiago just smirks. "Seriously, San! Your mom's going to kill me."

There's the most adorable pout playing at Brittany's bottom lip but he's still laughing, inwardly thinking about how cute that is, but still laughing none-the-less. He leans forward and swipes a bit of cheese of her shirt, smearing it over the fabric in the process, and pulls his finger into his mouth, scrunching up his nose at the taste. That shit definitely doesn't taste any better. Not that he thought it would've done on Brittany's shirt, but yeah.

"Stop eating it!" The blonde half-yells but there's an underlying tone of affection. "And it's not funny! Get me a top or a cloth or something!"

Santiago chuckles but pushes up from the sofa, making his way through the living room to the kitchen, stopping by the washing basket on top of the machine. They used to have a laundry room here, but then his dad decided he needed an office inside the house and so, despite the lack of size, they had to move everything elsewhere. It's not that Santiago really cares, he doesn't even live here, but he's still concerned for his mother. His dad's a bit of a dick.

"Yo, Britt!" He asks, rummaging through the washing basket. "Do you mind wearing something of mine?"

"No! Just give me anything that's not covered in cheese dip!"

He smiles to himself and finally lands on an item of clothing that makes the smile grow. Since they're watching a Lakers match, a Lakers jersey should be cool, right? Tugging it from the bottom of the washing basket, he searches around the kitchen for a cloth and finds one, throwing it over his shoulder as he walks back to the living room.

Brittany's still sitting on the sofa with her nose scrunched up, and he can see the cheese dip slowly running down the front of her shirt, threatening to spill onto her jeans. He knows he wouldn't have a pair of jeans to fit her and he doesn't think Brittany would feel too comfortable walking around her house with no pants on. Not that he'd have a problem with it, because he's got eyes, he's a man and he knows how hot the girl is, but they've got boundaries. They're friends, remember?

"Here, put this on," he says, chucking the jersey to the space next to him.

She eyes it for a moments then looks to him. "A Lakers jersey, San? Really?"

He drops down onto the sofa and shrugs. "You'd look hot in it."

"I'd look hot in anything."

Brown eyes roll and lock onto the TV screen where the Lakers are now up by 65 and the Warriors only 46. "So modest," he sighs, reaching forward to grab the neck of his beer bottle. He sits back and tips it against his lips, taking a long pull. "You can go change in the—"

_Well,_ he was _going_ to suggest that Brittany could go change in the kitchen or even upstairs, but it seems she doesn't have the same idea as him because she stands, lets her fingers travel down to the edge of her own shirt and tugs it over her head in one swift motion, letting her blonde hair tumble in loose curls over her shoulders afterward.

And Santiago all about dies.

His eyes travel over Brittany's body, over tight abs, smooth skin and his throat thickens as arousal punches through him. He knew Brittany was hot but _fuck,_ he really wasn't expecting this. Throughout their teenage years, Brittany always used to change in front of him. He'd never change in front of her since he was conscious of his body back then, but damn, how he wishes he had spilled some cheese dip so he could change in front of her now.

_Shit._ He really shouldn't be fucking thinking that.

He gulps loudly and forces himself to look away from her. The grip around his beer bottle tightens and he stares at the TV screen even though his mind is paying absolutely _zero_ attention to it.

"Hey, San?"

He doesn't look at her. "Yeah?"

"I think this is a little big on me..."

This time he _does_ look and his jaw immediately goes slack, eyes widening considerably so. Never in his entire life did he think that Brittany wearing his Lakers jersey could be this hot but _damn,_ he was most definitely wrong. The arousal within him doubles and he sits up straight, subtly holding the bottle above his crotch and pressing down hard with the butt of it to try and cause pain instead of pleasure. It works a little as the zipper digs into him, but Brittany's still standing there, holding the bottom of the jersey from where it stops mid-thigh. The arm holes are a little big too so Santiago can see her purple lacy bra and holy shit, this _so_ isn't good.

He tells himself repeatedly to think unsexy thoughts.

"Yep," he croaks out. "A little big but it looks good."

Beside him, Brittany slumps down on the sofa after shrugging, throwing her legs over his lap and he really thinks someone up in the sky must have it out for him. Yet he does nothing about it and holds his breath as he sits there, eyes focused on the screen but mind not taking in anything going on, and Brittany goes on without noticing a single thing.

This is going to be a long night.

/

The Lakers beat 101 to the Warriors 77.

Though he didn't actually get to _see_ any of how Bryant led all scorers with 27 points, or how Jordan Hill and Pau Gasol both scored in double-figures, because he was too damn focused on something else. Something like how Brittany felt pressed up against him, how his bare skin tingled where hers was brushing over his, or how his body was feeling too warm whenever she lent over him, brushing his lap with her chest to reach the Doritos that he took away from her as a joke.

So now they're still lounging around on the sofa, but Santiago has his head in Brittany's lap and her fingers are running through his short dark hair. He's not entirely sure how they got into this position, but all he knows is that he's more relaxed and content with this than he has been with anything in... Well, for as long as he can remember.

He hums lightly as her nails graze gently over his scalp and his eyes close as he twists onto his back, staring up at her. She's smiling and laughing at whatever's on television, and right now she looks more beautiful than ever. Her eyes are bright and sparkly, her skin is smooth and glowing and he just wants to reach out to touch it.

But he acknowledges how creepy that would be and bites back the urge, instead focusing on the lame reality show until it finishes minutes later.

Then his pillow—Brittany's lap—begins to shift and he glances back at her to see her hands raised in the air, her toned arms flexing as she stretches it out. Her lips part, face breaking into a yawn and he finds himself just staring at her, utterly fascinated by who she is and how she works. Which, actually, is sort of ridiculous because they've known each other since they were Freshman. They've been best of friends and it's only now that he's realizing how wonderful she really is.

For a friend, though, not in any other way.

"I think I'm gonna go home," she says, finishing off her yawn and dropping her hands back to his head, one begins toying with his hair again whilst the other rests gently on his neck, her thumb brushing over the stubble covering his chin.

He feels his lip begin to pout and sucks it in, instead frowning at her words. "You can stay here, Britt," he offers, knowing full well his parents wouldn't have a problem with it. Speaking of which, he doesn't know when they're coming home. "My mom wouldn't mind."

"Oh no, it's fine," she smiles softly down at him, lips curling at the side and a small ounce of white shining through from her teeth and he finds himself a little dazed. "I'm gonna stay at my parents house anyway seeing as my electricity's out," she continues, eyes darting around guiltily but a smile playing upon her lips.

He lets out a short laugh and reluctantly sits up, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders and elbows click. He turns on the spot to face the blonde, offering her a soft smile,, but her eyes are a little dazed and she's blinking a lot more than usually does. Cocking a brow, he leans forward slightly and gets closer to her face, dipping his head a little and staring into her eyes.

"Excuse me, is Brittany in?"

Brittany shakes out of it immediately and jerks back at the closeness of their faces. "Uh... Yeah. Sorry." She blinks purposely again and looks away. "I was going," she repeats and stands, but looks down at her (borrowed) jersey and glances back up at him apologetically. "You're not gonna make me walk home topless are you?"

"Tempting," he admits with a grin and balls his fists, pressing them into the sofa cushions to help as he gets up, towering over her slightly. "But no. You'd get a little chilly. Plus there might be some pervs out and I'm not having anyone staring at you."

He turns away, face dropping immediately at his words. Why did he just say that? Why does he care if anyone's staring at her?

"Why?"

Well, fuck.

He feels the heat of Brittany behind him and turns, gazing down at her. "What?"

"Why wouldn't you want anyone staring?" She asks and she doesn't look like she's genuinely asking. She seems as if she's digging for something deeper and he gulps, knowing there is something deeper to his words but not knowing what that is.

"I just... I don't want anyone looking at you like... You're a piece of meat," he finally lands on, throwing in a shrug. "You should be respected. You... You deserve better than being perved on, that's all."

It seems it wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it's the only one he can give and she sucks in her lips and nods slowly, fingers knotting into the fabric of the jersey she's wearing. She begins heading over to the front door and he can only kick himself in the head mentally as he walks over there.

What else was he supposed to say though? That he finds her attractive? Well yeah, he _has_ eyes. Or maybe he was supposed to say that he's suddenly come back from the big city and fallen madly in love with her in the time they've spent together since fucking _yesterday_? No. That's stupid and unrealistic. That kind of shit only happens in novels, or films, or even fucking songs, but it _doesn't_ happen in real life.

It's not like he couldn't fall in love with her, because he definitely could. He actually probably would if he lived in Lima, but it's just not realistic. The distance between them is too much and shit, he lives in New York and works as the top sports anchor on ESPN. She's a teacher in Lima and sometimes lives at home when she's not blowing up her shared apartment's fuse. Their lives are _totally_ different. They just wouldn't fit with each other.

And, you know, they're just friends. They've always been friends and it's worked for them. Maybe the six year gap doesn't exactly prove that but that's just a minor fault. Now that they've regained contact he's sure they'll keep it, no matter what. It's the same for Quinn too, which reminds him, he went out on a freaking _date_ yesterday with another woman.

Damn, Santiago doesn't have feelings for _Brittany_, he has feelings for _Quinn, _the girl of his high school dreams and the girl he went on a freaking date with.

Why the hell is he even thinking about this? Like he said, he probably could fall in love with Brittany, but he isn't at this current moment.

Wait... He _could_ fall in love with Brittany? Did he really just think all that?

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Brittany whispers as she reaches for the front door handle. "At the reunion?"

Santiago tugs his hands out his jeans pockets and steps up to her, a lot closer than he should and gazes down at her. Could he really fall in love with her? Would he fall in love with her if he were here for more than a weekend? Is that even possible?

"San?" Brittany calls, her brows slowly scrunching together. "Are you okay?"

His breathing picks up as their eyes lock and he wets his lips. He and Brittany have been friends for so long. That's what they are; _friends._ But he's having a hard time seeing that right now because all he can see is a girl that he could fall madly in love with. Everything about Brittany is perfect and as he backtracks over the time they've spent together this weekend, he can't seem to think of a time when he's been so relaxed, but had so much fun at the same time.

He can't think about anything except Brittany's reaction to him talking to Quinn in the Lima Bean, or how he'd find himself staring at her when they were shopping, only to be caught but instead of teased, been smiled bashfully at. He can't seem to think anything but how Brittany's touch has made his skin flare, made his stomach flutter, or how his skin tingled when she kissed him on the cheek and suddenly he wonders if the missing piece of his puzzle has actually been right in front of him this whole time.

He's got the butterflies, his skin's flared up, and now he just needs those fireworks.

Then a question pops into his head and everything else disappears, just this question repeating over and over in his mind: would he get those fireworks if he kissed her?

His hands find her hips before his mind even makes the decision, and he hears the breath hitch in his throat as he steps forward until she's having to tilt her head back to look up at him.

"San..." She breathes, but her entire body relaxes into his touch and their eyes never break as he clutches her closer and closer. "What are you..."

"I just wanna try something," he whispers and waits, needing to see if she backs out or not.

Right now he wants nothing more than to kiss her, this overwhelming urge is burning inside of him, and he's never known something so strong, but if she doesn't want to then he'll back away. He'll back off and go without knowing. He can be just friends if she wants them to be, even if he's feeling something he never has before.

"Okay."

It's the green light but he hesitates for a moment. Is he really about to kiss Brittany? Is he really about to cross that barrier?

He doesn't even have a chance to answer them before a hand is sliding up his chest, over his collarbone, around his neck and threading through his hair, pulling him down. She wants it. He can feel it in the way her breath is brushing against his lips, how her heart is hammering against her chest, pressed up against his, and he sucks in a shaky breath as their noses press together. He wants this, too but he can't seem to do it. Fuck. He _should_ be able to, but he can't.

He's frozen.

"Kiss me," she pants and his eyes open, unaware of when they shut and immediately lock with blue. "Just kiss me, please."

It gives him the confidence he needs, and without a second thought he's closing the gap between them, tilting his head down and joining their mouths. Their lips fit against each other perfectly, his pressing over hers, and the second his eyes flutter shut again, he sees it. Bright, sparkling colors explode behind his eyelids, erupting and bursting, filling his entire body and creating this low buzz in his veins. He feels the kiss flow through him, down his arms and legs and spreading throughout his chest. He feels it all and he inhales sharply through his nose as their kiss breaks, their faces only pulling back enough to look into each other's eyes again.

She's staring straight back at him with the same expression, and suddenly all coherent thoughts go flying straight out the window as his hands slide around to her lower back, pulling her into him once more, their lips coming back together in a harder kiss.

Her hands slide up to his face, raking through the hair by his temples before grabbing a hold of some at the back of his skull. He groans into her mouth when her lips shift and suck in his bottom one, and he swears the fireworks get so bright he's going to be seeing those flashes for weeks. But that's not the main thought on his mind right now because he's kissing Brittany. He's kissing her and she's kissing him back, and his hands are grasping at the jersey covering her body, pulling her tighter against him. He can feel her breasts push against his chest and suddenly he needs more. His hips jerk forward without conscious thought, and for a split second he's scared he's gone too far but then he feels her pushing back into him and gasping into the kiss.

She pulls back, eyes dark and lips swollen and stares up at him. Her chest is heaving hard, and Santiago stares down at her, gulping, wetting his lips and holding back the moan he wants to release at the taste of her.

Words aren't exchanged, just long, hard looks, and he can't think of anything he's more thankful for right now than their friendship because they don't need to speak to understand each other. That's something they've developed over the course of their friendship and he looks into her eyes and sees the want, the arousal, the need for him. He sees it and know it's reflected back in his own eyes.

They're kissing again before he knows it, her tongue flicking at his lips, her arms wrapping around his neck and he opens his mouth, allowing her tongue to slide in and stroke over his own. It feels so different to what he's accustomed to, and he can't stop but thinking about how it's amazing different. They kiss faster and faster, but somehow it's just as soft and Santiago finds his hands traveling down Brittany's thighs without his mind telling them to, but she shows no signs of wanting to stop and it spurs him on.

He crouches down, breaking the kiss momentarily and hooks his hands beneath her thighs, near the bend in her knees, and pulls up until legs wrap around his waist. Brittany's ankles hook together at the small of his back and he turns, kicking the front door shut as their mouths come back together, tongues pushing past lips and sliding over each other. They trade soft, lazy kisses as he walks them up the stairs and down the dark hallway, his hands keeping her steady as he finds his way to his old bedroom without the aid of any lights.

They manage to make it there, her hands gripping at his hair, twisting his head and manipulating the kiss and he kicks his door open, making sure to skip in before it hits them on the back swing, moving further into the room. When he gets to the bed, he drops her, letting her spread out across the comforter, but doesn't stand back, just keeps himself hovering above her as they continue to kiss. She moans when he nips at her lower lip and he smiles against her mouth, feeling himself heat up when her hands make a path down his chest and grip the hem of his shirt.

He breaks apart then, staring down at her and she bites her bottom lip, her calves skimming up the back of his thighs as they silently debate whether they're going to do this. But they're already too far gone not to, they both want it too much not to, so he pushes himself back to his feet and pull his shirt over his head, watching as blue eyes trail over his body.

And _fuck,_ he's never been more pleased to have lost this weight than right now, with Brittany looking over him with complete awe.

Leaning back down, he brings their lips back together and lets his hand run down the left side of her body, sliding beneath fabric to touch hot, smooth skin. The muscles quiver and tighten beneath his touch and he parts her mouth instantly, letting his tongue delve inside and flick against the roof of it until he hears the moan that makes his spine shiver with arousal.

His hand grazes over her breast as he grabs the shirt from the inside and urges her to lean up as he whips it off in one smooth motion. Then she's lying there, staring up at him with wide, dark blue eyes and shit, if he thought that glimpse he caught earlier whilst she was changing her top was good, he was fucking wrong. This, with blonde hair littered over the mattress, surrounding Brittany's head like a halo, stomach flat, abs taught and glowing, and slender fingers dancing up his forearms, over his biceps and sliding toward his neck, is _so_ much better.

The breath he takes in is shaky and unsteady as his palms brush down Brittany's collarbones, between the valley of her breasts, along the dip in her stomach and then stop at the waistband of her jeans. He spares a glance up, meeting those trusting eyes and licks his lips as he pops open the button of her jeans, slowly sliding down the zipper and then tugging the denim free from her long legs. She doesn't flinch, just presses a hand to her breastbone and peers down her body at him, breathing hard and heavy, nodding even though he hasn't asked her anything.

They're actually doing this.

Jesus.

He can't think of anything better.

He lowers his body on to hers, pressing their bare chests together, pressing the bulge in his jeans directly against her heated center and lets his lips drift across her collarbones, up the slope of her neck and along her jawline until hands grasp at his head, tugging him back to her mouth. Their kiss is sloppy, but so, so deep and he grinds down on her, feeling himself harden even further as she bucks into him, begging for more, but he won't give it to her, he wants this moment to last longer, he wants Brittany to know just how much he wants this.

But apparently she doesn't have the same idea as her hips fit beneath his, her legs wrapping around his thighs and flipping until he's flat on his back, Brittany straddling his laps. It's beyond one of the hottest things he's ever seen and his hands slide around as he kisses her again, palming her ass and pulling her into him until they're rocking together.

"San..." She pants into his mouth and he shudders at the sound of her voice. He can basically hear the arousal dripping from it. "San, I need—"

"What?" The word comes out through a breath, his lips brushing hers as he speaks. "What do you need?"

Brittany sits up, her hands drifting out his hair and trailing down to his abs where they stay. He mirrors the movement, needing the closeness between them and begins pressing open mouthed kisses up the long slope of her neck, letting his tongue poke out and smooth over the spots he sucks. She tilts her head to the side, nails digging into his skin where they now rest on his shoulders and it's only a few moments of stuttered, undecipherable words before Brittany grinds down purposefully, rolling her hips into him as one of his hands wraps around her back, the other lowering at a glacial pace until he's thumbing at the edge of her panties and pushing up into her, trying to release some of the pressure built up in his boxers.

It's strange, because he should be shaking. He should be nervous because this is pushing their relationship to another level; this is potentially putting their friendship at risk, but he can't find it in him to care. Every time their lips meet, every time she pushes into him, or one of her hands scratches down his bicep, he sees the fireworks. He feels the butterflies and something within him is saying that if they do go over the line, if they do cross this threshold between them, that it'll be for the best.

So with that thought, he reaches between them and nudges his hand beneath the waistband of her panties, dipping into hot, wet flesh and circling Brittany's clit until she's jerking into him, tugging at his face until she can kiss him again as she rocks into his hand.

Brittany's hand reaches between them two, making quick work of the button of his jeans and slipping beneath them to grab at him over his boxers. He groans into her mouth, jerking into her hand as she cups him and begins stroking languidly, pinching at the base and circling the tip. She knows what she's doing and he almost comes at the thought of being inside her.

But then again, he can't imagine anything more perfect than this because it just feels so right. Nothing could be more perfect because Brittany's above him, moaning into him, rolling into his hand and licking her way into his mouth. Brittany's above him, grasping at him and rubbing him in just the right way, breaking the kiss to stroke over his face, look into his eyes and nod as they both trade a conversation silently.

And the best part about this? Nothing's going to ruin it. Nothing's going to ruin this momen—

The bedroom door swings open, the light from the hallway filtering into the room and they both stiffen, breath hitching in both their throats. Santiago's hand stills against Brittany's clit and their kiss breaks as they glance around to find his mom standing in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth even wider.

"Honey, we're ho—_oh_. Sorry, I—I didn't realize you two were—" Faded, brown eyes flicker between them, taking in their very compromising position. "Tiago, I just—Sorry."

The older woman doesn't say anything more, or doesn't stutter anything more, just slams the door shut as she exits and Santiago turns to Brittany at the same Brittany turns to him.

And at that moment, reality comes crashing down upon both of them and just like that, the moment's over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Once Upon A Time (You Found Me) [3/3]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Length:** 16.2k

/

"Britt, don't—"

"No," Brittany cuts him off, throwing her hand out sharply as the other fiddles with the jeans she's sliding on. "This was... This was stupid," she shakes her head and takes in a deep, quivering breath, hopping lightly into the air and doing up the button. "We shouldn't—I shouldn't..."

Santiago jolts from the bed, scrambles towards the blonde with nothing but his jeans on and grabs her by the arm, but she doesn't look up. "Britt, what? No it was—"

Brittany whips her head up, rips her hand free from his grasp and stares into his eyes with deep, questioning blue. "It was what, San?" She asks, and he can tell there's more than meets the eye.

See, the moment his mom shut the door, it was like someone hit them in the face with a wet fish. Reality came crashing down upon them and they both stared at each other, not knowing what to do. Obviously the moment had been ruined, but Santiago wanted it. He realized the moment they kissed that actually, he'd wanted it all along, and he tried to soothe her, he tried to say something to make the situation better, but nothing was coming from his mouth. No words seemed to come to mind despite him desperately wishing they would.

And that silence had led to Brittany freaking out.

She'd pushed his hands away, jumped off his lap instantly like she'd just touched an open flame and began gathering her clothes. He was so shocked and frozen that his mother had walked in, or that they were actually heading that way, that he couldn't move, just sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. He couldn't believe that he'd crossed that line, that they were going to have sex. He couldn't believe any of it, but the one thing that he was focusing on _most?_He couldn't believe that he'd been so ignorant towards his feelings for her.

But all of his silence was misconstrued. It must have been taken as something else because the moment he'd come back to focus, he realized that Brittany was already half-dressed and half heading out the door.

Which is why they're here now, staring into each others eyes, and he's begging himself to say something. To say _anything_ that might help this situation. But how can you tell someone how you feel when you've obviously been denying it for so long? Especially your _best friend._ How can you tell them that actually, you don't want the old head cheerleader, you don't want your old high school dream to come true because it was what it was: a _high school_ dream. He's grown up, he's changed, he wants different things and it's been a long time coming that he finally realizes _what_he wants.

Because it's Brittany, and he's pretty sure it always has been.

Except now he's here, and Brittany's asking him what just happened, how he feels, what he felt and whether he regrets it all in one question. And _fuck_, he wants to tell her. He wants to blurt out some speech about how much he wants it; not just the sex, but all of it. Her, her heart, her body, her soul; he wants it all.

The words just don't seem to be coming out, though, and he finds her talking before he even can.

"It was a mistake," she finishes abruptly and in a voice he's never heard. It's hard, it has an edge to it that's very un-Brittany and his head jerks back at it. "It was just... A stupid mistake."

She breaks the words up with dramatic pauses, and his jaw clenches. He can see the finality in her eyes, hear it in her words and takes a step back, lifting his chin as she adjusts the jersey on her torso and walks out the door without even looking back.

And Santiago just watches her leave.

/

He hears his mom call out her name.

He hears her respond "I've just gotta go" and then the door slams shut.

He hears his mom open the door and shout after her.

But then he just hears silence.

/

A little while later, soft footsteps make their way up the stairs and only moments later, his mom's standing in the doorway. He's still sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand hung between his legs, hands dangling off his knees too and body still dressed in just unbuttoned jeans.

"Tiago?" His mom whispers softly but he keeps his head down, breathing steadily. "Tiago, I just wanted to—"

"Don't, Ma," he cuts in. "Just don't."

Despite his words, his mom walks further into the room, gingerly takes a seat next to him on the bed and strokes over his back comfortingly. He lets his eyes fall slut, and brings his palms up to bury his face into them as he lets out a loud groan.

"I didn't realize you and Brittany were—"

"We're not," he cuts off, exhaling heavily and dropping his head further. "We're not... _Anything, _mom. We just..." He takes in a deep breath and finally looks to his left at his mom.

She's sitting there, face gentle and apologetic, and ready to listen to whatever he has to say but he can't. He just can't talk to her about this. This is relationships, and sex, and guys don't talk to their moms about that kind of stuff. Girls do, but guys _don't_. And even if guys ever do have a brief conversation with a parent, it's with their dads when they're fourteen and they're getting the 'condom' and 'be gentle' talk. It's not a conversation about your mom walking in on you and your best friend treading over that line and heading down the sex path, leaving the friendship one behind. That's just how it is.

He sighs and shakes his head. "Just leave it, mom. Seriously," he shrugs off her hand and he can feel how dejected she is. "You wouldn't understand."

His mom lets out a long sigh, but stands from the bed, gently patting him on the head until he looks up. Their eyes meet and he gulps as he looks at her. He knows she hasn't done anything wrong and yet he's being shitty to her. He doesn't mean to be.

"I understand that you and Brittany are friends, but, honey," her face edges with something unrecognizable and Santiago tilts his head. "That girl wants you," his eyebrows shoot up. "And has done for a while. You two were a long time coming and I'm just sorry I ruined it tonight by walking in on you two—"

Blood rushes to his cheeks at the mention of what happened earlier but he coughs, cuts her off and waves a hand out in front of him. "Yeah, mom. You don't have to bring that up," he says, trying to hide his embarrassment but then her words settle in and he snaps his head up, back straightening like a pole. "Wait, what?"

His mom blinks down at him, hands coming together in front of her stomach. "What?"

"Brittany," he breathes out, ignoring the way his stomach flips at her name. "What do you mean about us being a long time coming?"

A low, throaty chuckle comes from the woman but she doesn't answer, just walks backwards toward the door with a 'you should know' expression on her face.

Except Santiago doesn't.

/

The second his phone buzzes, he almost falls over and hits his head trying to reach it from across the room. He doesn't even look at the caller ID as he picks up, just brings the phone to his ear and pants out a breathy greeting. "Shit, I'm so glad you called."

_"Missing me already, are we?"_

Santiago's head jerks back at the seductive voice and pulls his phone away, taking in the caller ID: Quinn Fabray. _Fuck_. "Oh, Quinn, sorry, I thought... Just thought you were someone else."

Quinn chuckles down the line. _"Not cheating on me are you?"_She jokes but he just gulps guiltily.

"Ha, no, not yet," he forces out, rubbing the back of his neck as he walks toward the window and leans against the wall beside it, looking out on to the dark street. "So what's up? You okay?"

_"Yeah, I just wondered if you wanted to go to the reunion tomorrow. You know... Together."_

He pauses. "Uh, what?"

_"Tomorrow, you know the reunion? I was wondering if you wanted to go together."_

Once again, he pauses. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what's going on in his life and to be honest, that damn reunion is now the last thing on his mind. He's got Brittany, Quinn and how much he's fucked up to process and think about, and he really doesn't know what's going on between him and Brittany now, which means he can't say yes to Quinn and go without either feeling guilty or without hurting Brittany. If it would even hurt Brittany; would she even care?

_Fuck._ This is why friendship is _so_much easier.

"Quinn... I'm going to be honest here, okay?" He says and something pangs inside his chest. "I'm not entirely sure if I can... Go with you," he tries to explain. "I'm not sure."

Quinn doesn't respond for a few moments, and he just waits, listens nervously to the sound of her breathing.

_"Why not?"_She finally lands on, and shit, he wishes she hadn't asked that.

"I... I'm just not really sure what's going on at the moment," he replies, shaking his head at himself. "I'm just not sure," he shrugs because it's the only thing he can come up with. "I'll meet you there, though?" He offers, trying not to sound like a complete dick that dates the girl of his high school dreams and then fucks her over when she asks him out. That's really fucking smooth. "We can have a drink together or something?"

He hears the hesitation, he hears Quinn's disappointment before she even voices it and for some reason that he can't explain, the next few words just spill from his mouth.

"Screw it, let's go together."

_"Yeah? Are you sure?"_

Quinn sounds a hell of a lot happier than a moment ago, but she also sounds like she was expecting that. And now, Santiago's already regretting saying that. Guilt is already pounding at his chest and all he can see in his mind is bright blue eyes and sun-kissed hair. _Shit!_

"Yeah, Q. That's be great. I'll pick you up from yours at like, 6:30?"

_"That's perfect. I'll see you tomorrow, Lopez,"_she purrs, but he feels nothing.

"_Mmmhmm, _I'll see you tomorrow."

The line goes dead and Santiago slaps his palm against his forehead.

Why did he just agree to that?

/

He doesn't get any sleep that night, just stares at his phone and waits, hoping that Brittany might respond to one of his four texts.

The clock above his bed ticks with every second that passes, and he counts them as he stares at his phone, wishing that it would buzz, but it never does.

And on the 14,422nd second, sleep comes over him and pulls him under.

/

The first thought he has when he wakes is how much he's now dreading the reunion.

He groans at the sunlight filtering in from the window, and he curses at himself for not having the foresight to shut the blinds last night. Rolling out of bed, he pads towards it and shuts them, growling to himself beneath his breath as he trips his way back to the bed, face-planting on to it.

There's pretty much nothing inside of him that wants to go now. It's only been two days and he's already wanting to head back to New York and just forget about all this shit. If he'd never come, he wouldn't have gone on a date with Quinn Fabray, kissed her, then the very next day gone third base with his best friend, almost slept with her and then screwed over all of them, including himself.

He would've never done any of it and now he's wishing he'd never opened that damn invitation.

He rolls over on to his back and stares at the ceiling, tucking one hand beneath his head whilst the fingers of the other drums along his toned stomach. Would it be better if he just packed up and left for New York today? Would Brittany get more pissed at him, and would Quinn be upset, too? He knows that it probably isn't the wisest idea, to just leave his problems behind and run away, it's not the right thing to do, but it would be a hell of a lot easier than having to deal with Brittany and Quinn, but in whichever way he looks at it, he's not going to win.

If he chooses to take Quinn to the reunion like he said, Brittany will find out somehow and that'll hurt her, and that's the last thing Santiago wants to do.

On the other hand though, if he doesn't take Quinn, not only does he screw her over, but he doesn't give his eighteen year old self what he deserves. Quinn Fabray was his high school dream, and he might not want it now, but he owes it to himself.

But that still leads back to Brittany. Every idea he seems to have ends up with Brittany hating him, or their friendship never being the same.

He doesn't want it to be the same though. He could take Brittany, and sure, screw Quinn over, but would that matter if he got Brittany out of all of this?

_Fuck, _he doesn't know.

But... He could find out.

With that thought in mind, he reaches for his phone and dials her number.

/

The line seems to ring a million times before there's a click and then the sound of breathing. Santiago stills, sucking his lip into his mouth and chewing on it nervously, wanting to say something to make this situation better, but he doesn't know what would do that.

Instead, he settles for a hushed, "Hey."

Brittany hesitates down the other end, and he scrunches his face up, hating this. It's a long twenty seconds before she replies.

_"Hey, San."_

Hearing the smile in her words makes his heart skips and a smile of his own crosses his lips. He slumps back down on to the bed, pressing his free hand to his forehead and stares at the ceiling.

"Are... Are you okay?" He asks, immediately cursing himself for asking that. What a stupid fucking question.

_"I'm... I'm fine,"_ she breathes. _"Just a little tired."_

The thought whether she couldn't sleep runs through his head, making the smile grow wider seeing as he did the same thing, but then he panics. What if she couldn't go to sleep for other reasons? Not because she was thinking about him, but because she was regretting what happened? _Fuck._

"Me too," he settles on, dropping his hand to the tie on his sleep shorts. "You're still going tonight, right?"

_"Yeah, I am."_ He can hear the nod in her words, some other type of shuffling, too. _"Are you?"_

"Yeah, yeah," he bobs his head to himself and sits up, running a hand through his scruffy hair. He's not sure whether he should tell Brittany about taking Quinn, whether she would care. He's not sure if it'd be better to just turn up, let Brittany see them together and get it over and done with in that way. But then again, if she does care—he thinks she does, but he's not sure—wouldn't that hurt her more? Damn it. When did things get so damn complicated?

"But, um... I'm—I'm actually... Quinn rang me last night..." He hears the hitch in her breath and squeezes his eyes shut. "She... ugh, asked me if we could... Go together. Like, a date..." Actually, he doesn't know if it is a date, so he corrects himself, "I think."

Brittany's quiet for a long while and he balls his fist, pressing it against his mouth as he waits for her response, but it doesn't come quick enough and he finds himself talking before he can stop the words flowing from his mouth.

"I just... I don't know if that's okay. I mean—I've said yeah, but... I want to make sure you're okay with that." He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. "'Cause if you're not then I can just tell Quinn—"

_"It's fine,"_ Brittany cuts in and he jerks his head back, hand dropping from his face. _"It's fine. I don't mind."_He swallows, disappointment surging through him. _"I'm gonna—Sam and I are going together, anyway."_

Piping hot jealousy pours through him, slicing through his chest and he's never known a feeling this strong. His jaw clenches, teeth clamping down hard and his nostrils flare as he stares at his reflection in the mirror across from him. But then it strikes him he doesn't know the context in which they're going. It could be friendly, and they live together so he can't make assumptions or play the jealousy card just yet.

"Oh, right. Like, _friends_ going together?"

_"Erm... No, actually,"_ she responds and that feeling starts again, pulsing through him. _"He asked me out like... A few weeks back and I said no but,"_ he hears her lick her lips. _"He asked me again when I got home yesterday..." S_he trails off and Santiago gets it.

"Yeah," he says curtly, anger shooting through him. "Sure. You're going with Sam as a date. I get it."

He knows how short and blunt he's being but he's pissed off. How can Brittany do that? Go with fucking Sam _fucking_ Evans, her _roommate_ and the guy Brittany said not even 24 fucking hours ago that she _wasn't_interested in. How can she go from that, to kissing him and then going to the fucking reunion with some other guy as her date?

_"Well you're going with Quinn, so I don't see the difference," _she fires back and he tenses, realization smacking him in the face. He immediately stands from the bed, fists curling against his shorts and keeps his voice low as he speaks.

"Is _that_ why you're doing it?" He growls. "To _spite _me?"

_"No,"_ Brittany defends. _"I didn't even know you were going with Quinn until a minute ago."_

Santiago narrows his eyes. "So why are you going with him then?"

_"Why are you going with Quinn?"_

Heat bubbles inside of him as she fires back his question. Can he never just get a fucking straight answer? "Because she asked me."

_"And Sam asked me."_

They're both breathing hard by the time they're stopped shooting answers at each other and Santiago slams his fist against the wall, pressing his forehead against the space only seconds after. This is such bullshit. How can Brittany be going with Sam? After last night, after... Well, what happened between them.

"Fine. I guess I'll see you there," he grunts out. "Bye."

_"Yeah, whatever. Bye."_

The line goes dead and Santiago throws his phone across the room.

Fuck this reunion.

/

He's not even the slightest bit nervous as he walks up to the old Fabray household where Quinn's staying.

Apparently Judy and Russel split up a few years back, and both of them moved elsewhere, but they couldn't possibly give up the house where they raised their child and so they kept it. God only knows they could afford to, and he guesses it came in handy seeing as Quinn didn't have to stay at one of the cheap ass motels that are scattered around Lima.

Anyway, he walks up to the front door and raps on it three times, standing back and tucking his hands into his pants. He's not too dressed up for the reunion, just smart casual in a pair of beige chinos, a white shirt and a dark jacket over the top. Truth be told, he couldn't really be bothered to dress up, _hell,_he almost called Quinn, told her he wouldn't be coming and hopped on a flight home, but he chose not to. That would be a pathetic way out and he's not a pussy. He knows facing Brittany would be the braver thing and so goddamnit he's going to.

Quinn skips out the door with a smile on her face, dressed in an above the knee burgundy dress, decorated with black lace shaped into patterns. Santiago would be blind to think that she doesn't look hot, but he's sort of not really focusing on that at the moment;there are other, more important things occupying his brain.

"Hey, Lopez," she greets, smiling up at him. "Looking good."

Santiago offers a light tipped smile back and kisses her on the cheek. He's just trying to be polite and gentlemanly to make up for the lack of interest he now has in her. "You look good too, Quinn. Shall we go?"

She nods and takes his arm as he offers it out. They walk to the car and he plays the gentleman, opening the door and helping her into the seat, but he can't stop thinking about how he would rather be doing this with another blonde.

He has a feeling he's going to be doing those comparisons all night.

/

They get to McKinley High and there are a few teenagers wearing fluorescent jackets, waving the cars that come in to the specific parking spaces. This just _screams _Rachel Berry, being all organized and shit and he resists the urge to roll his eyes as he sees a car at the closest spot to the school with a gold star on the number plate.

They park up, Santiago slides out the car and helps Quinn out too, and they walk up to the school without any contact. He doesn't want people to get the wrong impression, to think that they're either together or that they're just hooking up for the weekend, and so he sticks his hands in his pockets and squares his shoulders as they enter the school and follow the signs to the gymnasium.

(Not that he gets why there are signs. Everyone at this reunion used to come here and he's pretty sure the layout won't have changed but whatever. That's Berry for you.)

There's a table next to the gymnasium doors with a small queue of people in front of it, and behind the table stands one Rachel Berry. Santiago expects that same annoying little dwarf that he knew back in high school, but he's shocked to see a much more grown up version of her. Her hair's longer, smile brighter and honestly, she's pretty damn hot now, but he'd never admit that out loud.

Next to him, Quinn leans over as they join the queue and whispers in his ear, "Well look at Berry. All grown up," but all he can do is nod, agreeing with her statement whilst tapping his foot nervously on the ground and peering around him, down the halls and in through the small, wired windows on the gymnasium doors to see if he can spot Brittany.

But no luck, and they slowly move up the line until they're faced with Rachel Berry, grinning up at them with bright eyes.

"Quinn! Santiago! You came!"

Santiago presses his lips together and bobs his head. "Seems like it," he says and watches Rachel's eyes drift over him, her eyebrows moving up little by little the more of him she takes in. He smirks to himself and looks down, knowing full well that he's being checked out right now.

He wonders how many people are going to do that tonight.

"You look..." Rachel's eyes flicker up to meet his. "You look good," she says, clearing her throat and looking back down at the table, obviously trying to hide the blush that's pretty obvious in this light. "So are you two together?" She asks as she begins sorting through the name badges to find theirs.

"No," Santiago quickly cuts in and feels hazel eyes slide to him. "Not together. Just friends." He coughs. "Coming to the reunion. Together."

Quinn's arm slides through is and she throws him a look before turning back to Rachel slowly. "We did go out on a date though," she chirps and Rachel's head snaps up, looking between them.

"You did?"

Quinn nods and leans her head on his shoulder. "We did, and even though he doesn't think it, this is our second date."

It pisses him off because this _isn't_ a date. They're just friends and he wants to correct her, hell, he's about to, but then, because the world's out to get him, two pairs of footsteps pad up the hallway behind them and one is too distinct for him _not _to know whose they are. He stiffens, breath hitching in his throat and slowly takes the sticker Rachel holds out to him as she glances between them, like she's trying to figure something out but he doesn't pay much attention.

Not when he can feel Brittany walking up behind him, not when he can smell the sweet tang of her perfume, not when he can feel the footsteps slowing down and certainly not when fucking _Sam_coughs behind them and mutters a low, "Hey, guys."

Because then, he's too damn angry and fucking _jealous_ that Brittany's here with another guy to focus on why Rachel's looking between him and Quinn like she's missing something, or how this most certainly _isn't _a date.

He doesn't want to seem too eager though. He doesn't want to show how he's feeling because then Brittany wins. He doesn't want to let Brittany affect him like this if she's going to turn up with another guy because _fuck,_why should he? Brittany's the one that skipped out on him last night. Brittany's the one that wasn't willing to give up bringing Sam as a date like he was with Quinn. Brittany's the one that started this little game and he'll be fucked if he's going to let her win.

So he takes his time. He pats his sticker badge onto the right side of his chest and signs the book Rachel's laid out on the table. He smiles at her, asks how she is and pointedly ignores Sam's greeting to him, Brittany's too, and finishes readjusting his jacket before he turns around and looks at them.

But by then, Quinn's staring at him like she doesn't have a clue what's going on, Sam looks like he's not sure whether to keep talking or to shut up and Brittany's just glaring at him with an incredulous expression.

So what does he do? He smirks, grabs Quinn's hand and squeezes it gently.

"Come on, Q. We don't want to hold up the line," he says and tugs Quinn toward the gymnasium door, holds it open for her and flashes a forced grin at the blonde couple before he whispers, "We'll see you inside," and disappears amongst the throng of people, heading straight for the free bar.

At least there's one good thing here tonight.

/

About twenty minutes into the reunion, he's standing by the bar on his own—Quinn's popped off to the 'ladies' room'—and Sam comes over.

He hears the blonde guy order two drinks, one beer and a cranberry and vodka and shakes his head when Sam says yes to ice for the mixer. Brittany hates ice in her drink and it gives him this weird wave of satisfaction that crashes through him when he thinks that he knows that, and Sam doesn't.

And just because he's been drinking a little—he's not drunk, but he's on his way—he decides it's a good idea to point it out.

"She doesn't like ice," he says, swirling his beer in the bottle as he leans on the bar top.

Sam looks to him, confused. "What?"

"Brittany," Santiago elaborates, almost rolling his eyes as Sam's lack of intelligence. "She doesn't like ice in her drinks."

"And why's that?"

"Shouldn't you know?" He says, running his tongue along his teeth and slowly twisting his head to meet Sam's eyes. "You are living together, after all."

Sam wets his lips and straightens up, resting his hand on the bar. "Okay, what's the deal with you two?" He asks outright, and Santiago stills. "There's something going on and I need to know what it is." He chooses to stay quiet. "I'm blonde but I'm not stupid, so spill."

He stares at the liquid moving around in bottle for a whole thirty seconds before he takes a pull and then turns to Sam, now facing him. "We're just friends," he answers because it's true. That's what they are, even if they're currently going through a rough patch. "And you're here on a date with her, so why you so worried?"

Something softens in Sam's eyes as he takes in the words and looks over Santiago for a long moment, but then he steps forward and lowers his head a little, meeting dark brown eyes.

"Look, man... I don't want to start any trouble," he says honestly and Santiago sort of hates that Sam's actually kind of a decent guy. "So if there's something going on between you two, I just wanna know." He pauses and Santiago can't help but wonder why he'd offer to step off, especially when it's a girl like _Brittany._Whoever gives her up that easily would be a fucking fool. "I'll step off and tell her that we're just friends 'cause I don't wanna go head to head with you man. I know I'm not going to win, so you just need to say the words."

And for a moment, Santiago seriously considers saying the words. They're right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill, but then he thinks about it, like, _really_thinks about it.

Sam's a decent guy. He's not exactly the brightest color in the box of crayons but he's nice enough that it doesn't really matter. He's handsome, Santiago has to admit, and he knows that Sam's actually pretty loving. He would never intentionally hurt Brittany and hell, even now he's proving that he's a nice guy because he's offering to back off Brittany just because there's a slight chance Santiago might be interested in her.

Not a lot of guys do that anymore, and Santiago hates to admit that actually, he probably wouldn't himself. And as he looks at Sam, he realizes Sam's actually a better choice for Brittany.

Sam's here in Lima. Sam can love and support Brittany, be there for her and they can share their lives together, and Santiago can't do that. Santiago's life is so drastically different from Brittany's; he's now a city guy, he's ESPN's top sports anchor with a studio apartment in Manhattan and he's heading home tomorrow. Sam probably even knows Brittany better than Santiago does now after spending all that time with her, too.

See, Brittany and Sam always stayed small town people, always stayed in Lima and it makes sense that they would stay together, raise a blonde haired family and buy a damn house only a few blocks from their childhood ones. It makes sense and due to movies, Santiago knows that big city people and small town people just don't fit together anywhere along the line.

They can't and that's just a reality Santiago has to face.

Which is what leads him to say this, "No. There's nothing between me and Brittany."

Sam seems convinced almost immediately and Santiago thanks his lying skills as all the anger sinks out of him, being replaced by something that feels a hell of a lot like regret. Maybe a dash of sadness is lingering in there, too.

"Yeah? You're cool with me and Britt then?"

Santiago chews on the inside of his cheek, but eventually nods. "Yeah, I'm cool with it."

A wide, toothy grin is flashed his way as the bartender slides over two drinks towards Sam who picks them up, but stays looking at Santiago as he says, "Thanks for being honest, man," and then walks away, back to Brittany.

And when Sam finally hands the drink over to Brittany—with ice—Brittany just sips on it and doesn't even wince at the cubes of ice bobbing around the liquid in the cup when they touch her lips.

Maybe Santiago doesn't really know her anymore.

/

He's been watching Brittany for a good part of an hour now, and he can't get his head around how she's acting. Last night she was kissing him, running her hands through his hair and telling him that she needed him and now she's over the other side of the room with her arms draped around Sam's neck as they dance, her face nuzzled into Sam's neck as she laughs at something he said, and she's just generally acting like nothing ever happened between them last night.

Seriously, what the fuck?

About ten minutes ago, Quinn apparently had enough of Santiago's lack of interest in, well, pretty much anything besides Brittany—not that she knows Brittany's on his mind—and squeezed his arm before telling him she was going to go and talk to Puck as the guy slid through the door _without_his mohawk, which of course caused a ruckus to the half the people at this damn reunion.

He's now leaning against the bar, fully taking advantage of the free bar and just glaring at pretty much anyone that interacts with Brittany because he isn't. He thought they would be cool after last night. He thought they might be able to just brush it away and push it under the rug. He thought that despite their rather short conversation on the phone this morning that in person they'd be different, but Brittany's shown absolutely no interest in talking to him and honestly, he's just that stubborn that he's not going to either if she doesn't want to.

That was the plan anyway, before Sam's hand starts sliding down Brittany's back to a dangerously low level, and well... He just sort of snaps.

He realizes far too late what he's just done and that he has absolutely no explanation as to why he did it. All he knows is that he couldn't stand watching Sam touch her and make her laugh like that and that he had to do _something_to stop it. Which apparently, just happened to be marching over to them and wrenching Sam's hand away from Brittany's lower back.

Except now he's looking between wide, quizzical eyes and he seriously doesn't know what the hell to say.

"San!" Brittany exclaims, glancing guiltily toward Sam. "What are you doing?"

"Yeah, bro, what was that?" Sam chimes in and Santiago watches the his hand move back to Brittany's waist, so he snatches out and yanks it away again, harder this time, earning a satisfying whimper from the blonde guy.

"Santiago!" Brittany yells properly this time, pushing him by the chest a little and easing herself into the gap between him and Sam. "Stop it."

He clenches his jaw and glares at Sam, but he doesn't have time to say anything or to shove Sam again because Brittany's grabbing his elbow and tugging him out the gymnasium into the hallway. He twirls around, losing his stability as the mix of alcohol and adrenaline rushes to his head but snaps a hand out to one of the lockers, leaning against it in a way he hopes to be casual.

From the way Brittany's looking at him he's not sure it worked.

Both of them are breathing heavily, it echoed by the emptiness of the hallway but Santiago doesn't want to turn around. He doesn't even want to look at Brittany right now because honestly, he's kind of scared what's going to come. He knows he shouldn't have reacted like that to Sam touching Brittany, especially after telling Sam he was fine with those two, and even though he doubts Brittany knows about that conversation, it's still enough to make him panic.

"Santiago," Brittany calls him and he barely even twists his neck, allowing her to see his profile.

"What?"

Brittany shakes her head in disappointment. "What was that?" She asks, crossing her arms.

He straightens up, turning around to lean his back against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest and foot propped up against the bottom row. "Just thought it was a bit inappropriate for him to be touching you like that at a damn high school reunion," he tries, knowing full well Brittany's going to see through his bullshit.

And she does. She drops her eyes from his, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth and begins laughing dryly beneath her breath. He just watches her, waiting for her to say something but she doesn't and it irritates him. It really fucking irritates him because Brittany tugged him out her. He didn't want to be here; he was perfectly fine standing in front of Sam, a little pissed off, a little drunk and without a clue as to what to say after tearing his hand away from Brittany.

He was perfectly fine... ish, and now Brittany's not going to say anything? She's just going to stand there and laugh at him? What the fuck is that?

"Britt, don't fucking—" his eyes clench shut and he forces himself to take a deep, calming breath. "Just don't fucking laugh at me. This _isn't_funny."

Brittany's head snaps up, eyes narrowing and face dropping. She steps forward intimidatingly and Santiago actually finds himself scared of the way her nostrils are flaring, of how her eyes are hard as they glare at him and how she seems to be matching his height, if not towering over him despite him being taller than her. He doesn't think he's ever seen Brittany so damn angry before, and even though the majority of his mind is focused on that, there's a little part that's actually attracted to how freaking _hot _angry Brittany is.

"You don't think I know that?" Brittany speaks and Santiago blinks at her. "I'm laughing because this is so _not_funny. This is so far from funny it's whatever the hell the opposite of funny is and there's nothing left to do but laugh."

Dark brows scrunch together. "Nothing left to do? So what does this mean? What are you saying?"

Brittany takes in a deep breath, exhaling through her nose and sucking her lips into her mouth, worrying them for a few seconds. She stays still and quiet, tightening her jaw rhythmically and it suddenly sinks in what she's trying to say. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know where this leaves them and he's pretty sure that means their friendship is no longer intact. Clearly he didn't think it'd be the same, but he thought they could get through it. They always used to have little arguments and just breezed past them, but there's something more final about Brittany's response this time, something much more terrifying.

Yet still, in spite of those thoughts, he waits to hear if what he's thinking is true. After all, he doesn't want to assume and freak out for no good reason.

"I'm saying..." It's said through a long, exhaled breath and Santiago tenses, waiting the verdict. "I'm saying that I think after this weekend..." Brittany looks up with sad, blue eyes. "That maybe we should leave us for a bit. Not get in contact and forget about what happened last night."

Hurt and confusion pulses through him, hot and heavy. On one hand he's understanding perfectly what Brittany's saying, but on the other, he doesn't. What does 'leaving us' include? What does that freaking mean? Does that mean he has to never speak to her again, or just not speak for a while? Or is that Brittany's way of subtly telling him that she doesn't actually want to get in contact and forget about everything between them?

For _fuck sake!_ Why can't he just get a straight answer for _once!?_

The anger gets so much that one moment he's staring at Brittany, demanding an answer, but the next, curling his fist against the dent in the metal of the locker he's just hit. He's breathing harder than before, clamping his jaw shut and feeling the skin on his face tighten around the bone as he tries not to focus on how he's feeling.

Except he realizes that's not what he really needs to know. He doesn't need to know how _he's_ feeling because he already knows. He just needs to know how _Brittany's_feeling, but all his hesitations are holding him back.

_Fuck._

"I don't want that," he spits out through bared teeth. "I don't want to not talk to you, Britt but—"

"Why?"

It's said a lot softer than Santiago wants it to be said, but he can't turn back time, and instead lets Brittany's tone soothe over him, pouring serenity and calm into his veins until he's able to speak once more.

"I just—We're friends, Britt... But then there's Quinn and you—" He chokes on the words, desperately searching through his muddled brain for a way to say what he means, to ask what he wants to. It's so much harder than he thought it'd be but then again, when you want something, you've got to earn it, no matter how hard the journey to that thing may be.

Taking in a deep breath, he turns to face Brittany, regulating his breathing and letting his facial muscles relax into a softer expression. "If I... If I asked you... How you felt," he gulps and wets his lips. "About me... What would you say?"

It's nerve-wracking in a way he never knew it could be because he's never had to do this. Since he lost all that weight, girls just come to him and clearly show their feelings with actions, and God only knows before then he only had eyes for Quinn and it wasn't like she even showed the slightest bit interest in him back then. He's never had to tell a girl he likes them, which is stupid because he's twenty five, and how can a twenty five year old never have told anyone they like them?

Maybe he did back in like, elementary or middle school or something, but that wasn't serious. He's never had to declare _serious_feelings for someone, and doing this for the first time is so frightening. It's utterly terrifying because it's only now that he's realizing what he's putting on the line. Sure, he hasn't actually told Brittany out straight he likes her but shit, he kissed her yesterday, he's just asked her how she feels about him and if that doesn't scream 'I LIKE YOU' then he doesn't know what the hell does.

So he just waits in anticipation, clutching to the last of the nerves and patience he has even though all he wants to do is reach out, grab Brittany and shake the answer out of her.

He understands that she needs time though, but it still doesn't quell the anxiety he feels.

"I..." Brittany starts, pausing when her throat runs dry to swallow. Her eyes flick up to meet dark ones and Santiago lowers his head, showing her he's willing to listen and to understand whatever she has to say. "I don't know what I would say," she breathes out, lifting a shoulder. "I don't know how I feel."

"Yes you do," he fires back, shocked by his own speed of response and hell, shocked by how bold he's being with his response. "You do because you know how I—how I feel about you," he finishes, panting hard. "You do know."

Brittany looks away, his words too much for her. She shifts her weight from one leg to the other and slowly glances back, sucking her lips into her mouth once more. "Why are you asking me then?" She says, shrugging. "If you know that I feel the same way you feel about me then why are we playing these games? What's the point?"

There's logic in it somewhere, he knows, and as he processes the questions and words over and over, he slowly realizes what that logic is. But it pisses him off because it's like Brittany's implying that _he's_the one that started those games. Sure, he was slightly responsible for it, but he's just as responsible as she is. Two can play at that game and two fucking well did.

"_You_ started these fucked up little games, Britt," he comments and watches her eyebrows shoot up, head jerk back. "_You _ran out my bedroom on and then accepted Sam's fucking date," he steps toward her, their faces closing in on each other and stares into her eyes. "So don't ask me that question like I'm the one who fucking started this."

"I ran out because _you _froze up, Santiago. I wouldn't have frozen up if you'd just laughed it off or maybe carried on or whatever..." She trails off, glancing away but the tips of her ears tint pink.

"My mom walked in on us!" He points out, trying not to focus on how hot she is when mad. It's actually really kind of distracting. "I'd say that's okay if I froze up because of that."

"No, after she walked in on us, San. After. You didn't say anything and you were freaking out. Don't tell me you weren't because I know you." She takes a step back, twisting around but going back on it straight away, tucking one arm beneath her other whilst the hand on it plays with her bottom lip. "I know what you look like when you're happy, when you're sad, when you're cold, hungry, disappointed, jealous, angry, bored and now I've got horny to add to the list too—" Santiago can't help but smirk at that as Brittany steps closer, unfazed by her words. —"And San, you _were_ freaking out so don't lie." She shakes her head, staring so deep into his eyes he's almost forced to look away. "You can't tell me you weren't."

The fact that Brittany knows so much about him, has taken time out to learn what he looks like with every mood and remember them catches him off guard. He takes a step forward, tilting her chin up with a curled finger and looks down at her softly, unable to ignore the way her heart's flipping inside her chest. He can't ignore it because it's mixed with this intense fluttering, this incredible warmth and this overwhelming urge to kiss her.

But he has to tell her. He has to _explain_to her the reasons behind him freezing because he did. He can't deny it and the longer he goes without explaining it, the further they'll grow apart and he doesn't want that, not now he's just got Brittany back after six years without contact. Not now he's spent this weekend with her, a weekend he'd never take back because it's made him realize things he never knew, made him learn things and made him fully acknowledge things that he never did before.

And he wouldn't take back any of those lessons, those realizations or acknowledgments for anything, not if it means he gets Brittany.

"Fine," he breathes out, his eyes darting between each of hers and finger still warm beneath her chin. "I was freaking out," he admits, nodding, seeing the way Brittany's face falls. But he won't let her break out of his grasp or his sight. He can't; he _needs_to explain. "I did freak out but not for the reasons you seem to think."

He can feel his big speech come on. _The_big speech that every romance movie or novel seems to have which gets him the girl and he's praying right now that even though it's cheesy, even though it's so cliché, he wants to say it because now he gets why the big speech is there in the first place. He gets it and he almost smiles at the thought.

"I was kissing you... I had my hands running over your body, marveling in your perfection and Britt... My _mom_ walked in on us. She saw me in a moment that I didn't want anyone else to see." He shrugs, wets his lips. "My mom ruined a moment between me and my best friend when we were about to cross a line that I _really _wanted to cross, if I'm honest."

Brittany tries to duck and hide her blush, but he holds her strong, wanting to see how she reacts to his words. He needs to see it because if he's going to admit how he feels, he needs to know she feels the same way she does. It's crucial.

"Britt," he starts again, shifting so close he can feel the warmth radiating off her body. "I was about to have sex with my best friend and I don't really know how you _weren't _freaking out about that," he gets out through a slight laugh. "Not just because we were about to have sex, but because someone was breaking a moment that I never knew we could have."

His heart picks up its rate as he speaks, and once he sees no attempt to run away from his words, and no flinching, he sucks in a deep breath, shuffles that little bit further forward until their bodies are pressed together, Brittany's hands coming to rest upon the plane of his chest, and joins the hand he has on her face with the other, cupping her cheeks, his fingertips resting upon the hinge of her jaw.

"What happened yesterday was a big thing, Britt... And if you hadn't ran off, I would've told you that." He lifts a shoulder because it's true. He may have frozen, may not have spoken, but the words were ready to roll off the tip of his tongue. His mind and heart were ready, even if his body wasn't. "I would've told you that, along with the fact that I never knew how much I wanted that—how much I wanted _us_ until that moment." He exhales heavily and feels his lips curve upward as Brittany's eyes soften, her fingers toying lightly with the buttons of his shirt. "Because I couldn't and don't want anything less. I don't want to _not _have you, Britt... That's just—I'm not saying I can't have it like that because I can," he shrugs one final time. "I just don't want to."

Brittany's head ducks, chin tucking to her chest but her eyes look up through her lashes. It's like all of a sudden she's gone bashful and it makes his heart flutter to think that he made her do that. His words made her do that. Maybe finally he's saying the right thing.

"You... You really mean that?" She whispers, and Santiago doesn't hesitate for a second before he's grinning and nodding.

"Yeah, Britt. I really mean that."

The fingers on his chest slowly drift upward, toying with the edge of his collar as they gaze into each others eyes. They're both smiling, reading things that neither of them can verbalize and he shifts forward, his hands slipping down from her face and settling on her hips, thumbs rubbing circles over the protrusion of her hip bones.

Brittany glances down, breaking the eye contact as she asks, "So... What does this mean?"

And Santiago just rolls his eyes playfully. He doesn't know how she doesn't know what this means because he wants her. He likes her and wants to be with her, but he's not sure how he can say that in any other way, so instead he whispers her name until she tilts her head up, and then he just kisses her.

It's soft, hesitant and slow at first, Santiago making a pleased sigh against her warm lips as they suck in his bottom one, a tongue brushing over the edge of it and he opens it his mouth. Then she can't hold back her moan as his tongue brushes over her, his hands pulling her closer and he finds himself smirking against her mouth, his hand twitching against her stomach as the need for more grows. It starts off as little tingles, gathering low in his stomach but then Brittany's hands slide up from his chest, loop around him neck and pull him impossibly closer, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as the kiss grows deeper, grows sloppy.

From there it doubles, triples, multiplies until he can't seem to fight the heat that overcomes him, and it seems neither can she because she nips at his lip, sucking his tongue into her mouth and moaning when his hips jerk forward.

He sucks in a sharp breath as soft hands slide up through his hair, gripping it and her tongue runs along his teeth when she pushes his tongue back into his mouth. The kiss grows hungry, almost animalistic, and Santiago can feel all the blood rushing to his groin, making him press up against the fabric of his boxers as her hands make a path down his chest, over the defined muscles of his abdomen. Two long fingers hook into his belt buckle, pulling his hips into hers and he moans against her mouth as they begin rocking together.

"San," she breathes out as they pull back for air. Her eyes are wide but so, so dark. They're slightly hooded and he can see the arousal flashing behind him and can only imagine what it's like to touch her, to feel her. That single thought shoots straight to his crotch, making him strain further against his pants and he sucks in his lips to prevent the moan from spilling out between them.

"Where?" He asks, knowing the question before it's asked. She just stares, panting heavily and looking like she can't wait another moment but both of them know this isn't an appropriate place. This is their old high school and all their old friends are just through the wall to their left, so no matter how badly they want each other, how badly they want to continue where they left off the other night, they need go somewhere else.

Fast.

"Your place," she gets out. "Your parents are at mine."

Despite the heavy, erotic atmosphere, he manages a small chuckle. "How is it you know where my parents are and I don't?"

She doesn't answer him, just winks and pulls away reluctantly, grabbing his hand as she leads him down through the hallways and out of school. They're in the parking lot before he knows it and she's dropping his hand, twirling around with the biggest grin on her face and he just follows her, his eyes unable to stray on to anything else. She really is the most magnificent thing, _his _most magnificent thing, and he can't quite believe that.

But it's true, and the sooner they get back to his place, the sooner he'll be able to prove that.

/

The second they get to his room, her hands are on his belt buckle, pulling it open, and her lips are pressing against his, pulling one between her teeth and nipping lightly. His hands slide down to her waist, squeezing gently and he moans as she walks them back toward his bed.

The back of his knees hit the edge, and he falls down into a seated position, watching as Brittany yanks his chinos free from his legs and throws them into the darkness of the room behind him. It's sort of weird because he's usually the one in charge. He's the one taking control, and by now he's usually picking up the girl, urging her legs around his waist and bucking into her as he flicks open the strap of her bra, his tongue sliding over hers.

But he has nothing to complain about, not when Brittany's dropping to her knees and smirking up at him. Not when she's grabbing him through his boxers, rubbing expertly as she kisses her way down his chest after pushing off his shirt, running her tongue along the grooves of his abs and then tucking her fingers into the waistband and letting him spring free against his stomach. And especially not when she's running the flat of her tongue along the underside of his shaft and then covering him, taking as much of him in as she can and beginning to bob her head.

He groans as she throws her hand into the mix, twisting her fist and pumping hard as the heat builds in the back of his spine. Her tongue flicks over the head of his cock, and he throws his head back, fisting the bed sheets beside him with one hand and grabbing the back of her head with the other, his fingers tangling into blonde hair.

It's almost embarrassing how close he is already and before he can embarrass himself publicly, he grabs her chin when she looks up at him with a smirk and splutters out something unintelligible, something along the lines of having to stop doing that because she's just too damn good at it. She just smirks and he tugs her up, pressing their lips together and wrapping his hands around the back of her knees, pulling her until she's straddling him.

He suddenly becomes incredibly aware that she's wearing far too many clothes and begins changing that, pulling her top over her head, her hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders, and unbuttoning her skirt, pulling it free from her waist until she's sitting atop him in nothing but underwear.

Their hips rock together, and he can feel how wet she is through the fabric of her underwear as his hands drift down, fingers sliding over the damp fabric. She groans into his mouth, pale arms wrapping around his neck and he honest to God can't believe they're doing this, and this time they're actually going through with it. The other thing he can't stop thinking about either is how they went for so long without knowing this connection, without knowing how well they could fit together, how well their hands know each other and how much they want this.

And people say ignorance is bliss. Psht.

His hands slide around from her hips, up the plane of her back and stop at the strap of her bra. His fingers flick it open with practised ease and she smiles against his mouth as her hands come back around, cupping his cheeks when the rocking gets a little faster, when the friction gets a little stronger and fuck, he's completely naked and he's about two seconds away from blowing his load.

Brittany drops her hands from his face to let him tug her bra off, and he breaks the kiss, beginning to trail hot, opened mouthed ones against her jaw and down her neck. She groans, pressing down her hips intermittently because she's growing less impatient with every second, and he smirks against her skin, poking his tongue out to soothe over the pot he just sucked into his mouth.

The arousal within him tightens when he drops his hands, pushing them between them enough so his eyes can trace over her body. She's perfect, something he thought he'd only be able to imagine in his wildest dreams, and he bites down on his lip as he leans forward, taking a nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the hardened nub. Her hands are suddenly in his hair again, gripping and pulling his head closer against her chest and he moans, letting his hands wander down to her lower back, slipping beneath the fabric of her underwear to grab at her ass, fingers massaging the flesh gently.

"Fucking hell, San," she gasps at one particular buck of his hips.

He releases her nipple with a pop, but only turns his head to the neglected one to give it the same treatment as she continues to moan his name, the rock of their hips getting sloppier and sloppier. He can feel her, and wants nothing more than to rip the last offending piece of fabric from her, but he knows that won't show her how he feels. It's already been too quick and he wants to make this last, even if he knows the second he's inside her, it won't last for too long.

The thought of being inside her makes him bite down on the skin of her neck, and she yanks at his hair until he jerks back, letting her nipple brush over his chin as he looks up at her. She's breathing hard and heavy, panting down at him and he wants to say something, wants to tell her how much he wants her, how beautiful she looks and how he can't wait until they make that final connection, but the words just don't form in his mouth.

So instead he grabs her thighs and stands, turning them around and crawling up the bed, dropping her so he can settle between her thighs. For a moment he pauses, unable to figure out how he got this damn lucky, but then quicker than a flash, she's pulling him down into a deep, deep kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth and flicking against the roof of it.

Then he's unable to think about anything else but her beneath him, his cock trapped between their stomachs and how he's so fucking glad there's a box of condoms in the top drawer of his bedside table because otherwise what's going to happen wouldn't be possible.

With that thought, he breaks the kiss and sits on his knees between her legs, reaching over to pull open the drawer and grab a small square wrapper from the box inside. He smiles down at her when she grins up at him, and he can't fight the overwhelming happiness that buzzes within him at the knowledge that in a few seconds they're going to be taking the next step.

Brittany takes the condom from between his fingers, her eyes flicking down between his legs and he cocks his head, eyebrow raising as she slowly tears it open with her teeth, throwing the packet off the side of the bed. He looks down her body, eyes landing on the spot of dampness on the front of her panties and he bites his bottom lip as he stretches forward to peel her underwear away from her.

Her hips buck against his touch, and he smirks, pushing the fabric down her hips until he has to lift her leg to tug it off completely. The moment feels too hot, too intense and he can feel how hard his chest is moving as he looks between her legs, moaning lowly at the moisture he sees.

"I want you so fucking much," he rasps out roughly.

When he looks up, he meets blue eyes and finds a slight blush of pink tinting Brittany's cheeks, and he can't believe she's embarrassed. She's the definition of perfection and he knows he's staring but he can't not. She's just _so _beautiful. She's beautiful in every single way and he can't believe he's never seen all her beauty before, not just outside but inside, too. Maybe he was too caught up with Quinn. Maybe he was so focused on her that he never knew what was in front of him the same time.

But now he does know what's in front of him. He knows and he can't believe that Brittany wants him back.

His hands stroke up the soft skin of her thighs, and she groans when he bypasses the area she needs touching the most for her stomach. His fingers map out every inch, stroking over the skin and he gently glides over her breasts, feeling hardened nipples brush over his skin until he stops to appreciate them, kneading them gently. For her part, Brittany reaches down between them, sliding the condom skilfully down his length and he finds it way hotter than it should be, realizing just how turned on he is.

He takes a deep breath as he pulls back his hands, looking between them to see how close they are and groans when a pale hand curls around him, stroking him languidly as they both get themselves ready. It's a big step, they both know it. Hell, they've even talked about it and he gently urges her hand away until he can grab at himself, shifting forward on his knees and lowering his entire body so their chests press together and his dick is running through her wetness.

Their lips hover over each other teasingly, but suddenly it feels like the atmosphere has suddenly got a million times more serious and their eyes lock. Her thighs squeeze gently against his hips and he knows he wants this, he knows she wants it too, but this is a significant moment. This is one that they'll remember for years to come and he wants to make it as special as he can.

But then Brittany makes this weirdly hot noise, somewhere between a beg and somewhere between a moan and he knows his stamina is going to take a serious hit the second he sinks into her.

So he kisses her, trying to calm himself and lets his eyes fall shut as he lowers his hips, nudging her entrance as her hands come around his neck, deepening the kiss. Then he's pressing forward, sliding into her and they're both moaning into the kiss, but Santiago isn't aware of anything else except the way she feels around him, hot and tight. But he wants to be aware of something else, he wants to see this moment, to remember it, and he pulls his lips back so he can see her.

And the second he does, he realizes he's already falling madly in love with this girl.

Brittany's eyes are closed, her head tipped back and mouth open. There's a flush to her cheeks, her neck, and Santiago bites his lip as he pushes further into her, watching the way a little crinkle appears in her brow at him inside of her, the way her jaw falls that little more and how a breathy moan flows out of her. There's a little smile playing at her lips too and her legs squeeze his hips, bucking up slightly, and he knows exactly what he needs to do but this sight in front of him is more than distracting.

Short nails dig into the skin of his back right then, and he acknowledges how he needs more too and begins moving, letting his lips hover over hers, the tips of them barely touching as his hips roll and grind, pleasure sparking throughout them. Brittany grinds up into him and he pushes down, feeling her thighs tighten in pleasure around him with every thrust and he stares into her eyes the second they open, their hearts, souls and bodies connecting in every single way possible.

Sex isn't new to him. Fucking someone isn't new to him either, but making love? Yeah, that's pretty new. He's never done it before, probably because he's never been in love before and it's ridiculous to think that after three days he's fallen head of heels in love with someone, but when he thinks about how that someone is Brittany, suddenly he doesn't think it's so ridiculous.

Especially not when her hands are sliding up to cup his neck. Especially not when she's pulling their foreheads together and staring deeply into his eyes. Especially not when she's panting warm breath against his lips and muttering his name through a breathy moan. And especially not when she's pressing their lips together and smiling into the kiss.

It's all so intense, hot, erotic; but so romantic too that he considers that the sex might be getting to his feelings and emotions, but then he thinks about how he's always been like this with Brittany. How he's always felt this pull towards her but never really known what stimulated that pull, how he's always looked at her with this extra fondness and how he's always wanted something but never knew what that something was.

But now it's so clear. Now it's so clear he wonders how he was so damn blind before because he doesn't think he's ever going to want anything more than he wants Brittany. He never thinks he's going to want anything else besides Brittany because it's just too damn strong.

"San," Brittany groans out, her eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck me harder, please."

She doesn't really need to say it though, because he already knows. It's another thing that shocks him because he would've thought after six years of being apart his ability to read her needs would've faded, but it's nothing like that. If anything he knows it better now and he creates the tiniest of distances between their chests to get a hand between them, sliding it down between her legs and letting the pads of his fingers roll over her clit as he picks up the pace, putting more force into every thrust.

Her hips buck up with every circle he makes, and he's sure to switch them from wide and slow to small and fast, knowing exactly how to push her toward an orgasm. His own builds within him, heavy like pressure at the base of his spine and he can feel himself growing tired as he pumps into her, breathing hard into her mouth as their lips part, touching but not kissing.

The thighs around his hips squeeze impossibly tight, shaking more and more and all he can think about is how much he wants to see her face when she's pushed over the edge. So he moves a little faster, adds more pressure into every thrust and presses down in a way he knows she'll like until Brittany's gasping sharply, back arching off the bed and pushing into him, her arms flinging around his shoulders to pull him down, to pull their heads together and to meet his eyes as her orgasm punches through her.

She lets out a small cry, tightening around him and he knows how close he is, so he works harder and quicker, sliding his free hand down to her thigh to push her leg up toward her chest so he can slide deeper, prolonging her orgasm until she's practically screaming his name.

The feel of her coming aids in his too, and his entire body tenses as he lets himself go, moaning, "_Fuck_, Brittany," as he pours everything he has into the condom, their lips coming together in a kiss way too soft for what they're doing.

And then they're still for a long moment, both of them trying to catch their breath as they gaze into each others eyes and he begins smiling. She does too, and there's a flutter of movement between them before they're kissing again, lazy and sweet. Their lips brush over each other, curling up against one another and he feels her hands slide up from his neck to his cheeks again, cupping them gently as their kiss slowly parts.

He lifts up a little, because he realizes he's leaving all his dead weight on top of her, and pulls out, loving the way her face reacts and he realizes how many things have jumped to the top of his 'favorite things ever' list this weekend, all of which include Brittany.

Rolling to the side, he lets out a long exhale and feels exhaustion sink into his bones and muscles. His lungs are working at a slower pace now and not a second passes before Brittany curls up into him, burying her head beneath his chin and throwing an arm over his midsection, hands clutching at his waist. He grins, looking down at her, and she must sense it because she tilts her head up, smiling up at him with sleepy eyes, and he finds it both amusing and adorable.

He strokes a hand over a lock of hair that's fallen and lets his eyes flicker over her face, taking in everything and knowing by the way she's staring at him that she doesn't regret what just happened for a second. He doesn't either, he never thought he would, and he tips her chin up with finger beneath it to press one last kiss to her lips before they both settle down and sleep takes over them.

/

In the morning when the sun's rising and slowly filtering in through the blinds, they're still in bed, Santiago on his back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought whilst his fingers trace lazy patterns up the warm, bare skin of Brittany's back whilst she snores lightly against his neck.

He can't quite believe that last night actually happened, that they actually slept together and now they're officially more than friends. It does bring slight worry to him because he doesn't quite know _what _it makes them now, but he's more than sure it's not just friends with benefits. Well, at least he wants it to be more than that. He did declare his feelings last night, and then showed Brittany them when they got back here, and he hopes that he's done enough to show her he wants to work through their differences and the distance between them. He wants to make it work between them, he'll do anything to make sure it does.

He just hopes that's enough for her.

Long distance relationships are hard. They're so hard and many of them don't work out. You have to cope with the loneliness, the lack of intimacy, the emotional stress, the misunderstandings and conflicts, the financial burdens and many other things, and even though Santiago doesn't think he'll have to worry about most of them, they're definitely there to consider. But he also knows they can work. It takes effort, commitment, trust and love to succeed, as well as many other things like emotional stability, mental maturity and all that crap, but he knows they can definitely work.

And it's not like he'll have to worry about the distance forever. There might come a time where he'll want to move here (doubtful but it's a possibility) or maybe Brittany might want to move to New York. Or they might even compromise if their relationship gets that far.

Brittany shifts against his chest, her face nuzzling further into his neck and the most adorable breathy sigh coming from her lips and he chuckles to himself, gliding his palm up soft skin until his fingers can tangle in blonde hair, twisting the strands lightly.

With Brittany in his arms like this, breathing warm air against his skin, he knows he wants it to. He definitely wants it to get to that level where they buy a place together, or move to be together, because even if they've only slept together once, only just admitted their feelings and only just got somewhere that they can officially say is past the 'just friends' boundaries, he can see a future with Brittany. It's optimistic and bright and as he glances down at her face, seeing that soft, content smile she's doing in her sleep, he can definitely confirm that.

But he can't tell her that yet; it's early days.

So for now he'll just take this as it comes, and that's more than enough for him.

As long as he has Brittany, that's okay.

/

Later, he's standing in the kitchen wearing only a pair of sweatpants, cooking some eggs on the stove when soft footsteps make their way down the hallway.

He smiles to himself but continues cooking, only turning when the footsteps gets close enough that he knows Brittany's now in the kitchen, or at least in the doorway. Instantly he's greeted with the sight of Brittany, wearing his shirt from last night, standing in the archway of the kitchen, her left hand toying with the right sleeve of the shirt nervously. Her bottom lip is between two sets of straight white teeth, nibbling anxiously and her blue eyes are flicking between Santiago and basically anywhere else.

His stomach flutters and he grins, his eyes appreciating the lack of length in the shirt as it barely covers the tops of her thighs and he begins thinking how much he likes Brittany wearing his clothes. First his Lakers jersey and now his shirt... Damn. He might as well just give her his closet. He'd totally be okay with that.

After those thoughts have finally processed, he realizes that Brittany's still standing in the doorway, he's still holding the pan full of eggs and they're both just staring at each other wordlessly.

Clearing his throat, he decides to change that. "Morning," he chirps, beginning his movement toward the kitchen island where two empty plates sit. "How are you?"

Brittany stays where she is, still fiddling with the sleeve of her (borrowed) shirt. "I'm fine, thank you," she whispers, almost sheepishly, her eyes still darting around. "How're you?"

"I'm good. Really good, actually," he admits, meeting blue eyes and grinning as he shoves some eggs on to a plate. "I made us breakfast."

"You can cook?"

There's a playful edge in her tone and Santiago chuckles, nodding.

"Yeah... I don't cook a lot though, so consider this special treatment."

Brittany lifts an eyebrow in his direction but walks over to the stools, pausing to hover behind them. "Do you not like cooking or...?"

"Don't have anyone to cook for," he shrugs, pushing the last of the eggs on to the other plate. "Please, sit." He nods to one of the stools. "Unless you like to stand whilst eating," he jokes, turning around to slide the empty pan on to the counter top.

Brittany giggles but slide on to one of the stools, letting her feet rest on the edge to reveal her long, smooth legs. Memories of last night flash through Santiago's mind, the skin of his waist tingling with the memory of those wrapped around him shooting through his mind. Before he can blush at those thoughts, or before he can get hard at them again, he coughs and flicks his gaze to Brittany who's staring at him, an inscrutable expression on her face.

Looking around, he grows a tad confused as he slides onto the stool opposite Brittany, but shifts around the side to let his leg hang in her view. "What?"

Brittany's eyes stares at him for another long second before she's shaking her head, laughing softly and picking up the fork by the plate full of eggs to start eating. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?" He asks, suddenly feeling a tad self-conscious.

Blue eyes flick to him. "Yeah," she confirms, bringing a forkful of eggs to her mouth and clamping down on the cutlery. She hums as she chews, making one of the most adorable faces he's ever seen and he finds himself staring now, unable to tear his gaze away. "'Ese are 'fo 'ood," she mumbles out, cupping her mouth when she sputters a little egg. Her eyes flick away embarrassed. "'Orry."

He chuckles and shakes his own head, picking up a fork and piles a load of eggs onto it, shoveling it into his mouth and moaning at the taste. Not to be up himself, but he knows how to cook eggs, if nothing else. A comfortable silence falls between them as they eat, stealing glances at each other every now and then. At one particular mouthful, Brittany chews thoughtfully, staring at him and he can see the question forming in the cogs of her mind as he looks at her.

Finally, she asks it. "Why don't you have anyone to cook for?"

It's not what he was expecting, but he still answers. "I live on my own," he explains.

"That's not what I meant," she says and he looks at her. "I meant like... Do you not cook a lot for, um, the girls you have around?"

He narrows his eyes at her question but slowly catches on. "You're talking about like, girls I've slept with, right?" She nods and he exhales, dropping his fork to his plate carefully and sitting up a little more. "No, Britt. I don't. Truth is I haven't really had a lot of one night flings and with my schedule it takes quite hard work to have a girlfriend, and up until now I've never had a reason to work that hard for a girl."

Brittany's eyebrows raise, her blue eyes clear and understanding. "Up until now?"

He smiles and wets his lips. "Well, yeah," he lifts a shoulder and reaches across the counter to her hand resting on top, sliding his finger between hers. "I've never met a girl I really like."

All of a sudden, Brittany goes all bashful, ducking her chin to her chest and twisting her upper torso as her thumb brushes over his. He chuckles and slides off his stool, rounding the counter and urging her around until he can part her thighs and step between them. She's sitting down so she's considerably shorter, but he just tilts her head back, strokes the back of his free hand over her cheek until blue eyes flick up and his heart expands within him. She's just so beautiful.

But then something flashes across her eyes and she's chewing on her lip as her gaze flickers over his face, tracing down his lips, over his neck and down to his bare chest. He frowns.

"What?"

Brittany shrugs and releases his hand to stroke her hands over his abdomen. "I just... I can't believe this actually happened."

A shock of panic strikes him but he forces himself to stay cool. She might not mean that she regrets it by saying that. It could be a good disbelief.

"What do you mean?"

"Just like... Back in high school, I..." She trails off through a breath and he narrows his eyes, brows pushing together.

"Back in high school..." He urges on, still stroking over her face. "You can tell me, Britt."

She takes in a deep breath, and he ignores that he's in the right position to peer down her shirt and at her bare chest, because he wants to know.

"I liked you, San," she admits, voice wavering a little as she looks up at him, but removes it just as quick. "Back in high school... I liked you."

"I liked you, too, Britt. We _were _best friends, after all," he laughs but her face stays blank. Okay, maybe he's got the wrong end of the stick.

"No, San, I mean—" Blue eyes flick up and Brittany keeps the contact, clearly struggling with what she's saying. "I _liked_, liked you," she continues and then it hits him.

Shit. She like, _liked_, liked him back then. Not as in friends but in as in more. But how is that possible? He doesn't remember a time where she looked at him with the same want he possessed, but wasn't aware of, back then. He doesn't remember a time where he caught her looking at him and thought it was weird but in a good way. He never even knew she'd _considered _being more with him, even if she'd immediately shrugged it off and thrown that possibility away.

How could she though? He wasn't good looking, he wasn't athletic and thin. He was nothing like all her boyfriends were back then.

"What?" He stutters, confusion thickening with him. "I mean... Ho—How?"

Brittany rolls her eyes but smiles as she drops her gaze to her hands, now making a path down to play with the ties of his sweatpants. "Don't make me say it again," she mumbles but he just stares at her, genuinely confused. "And I had loads of reasons to like you. I mean... You were everything I wanted in a boyfriend back then, and still are, just... You look a little different but that doesn't matter to me."

He sucks in his lower lip and urges her gaze back to his. "You liked me in high school? When I was fat?"

"You weren't fat," she defends immediately. "You were a little bigger but you were still the most handsome guy in school. I honestly didn't know why none of the girls were chasing after you."

Affection warms his chest, curling around his heart and he sighs, head tilting to the side as his eyes flicker between blue. "Why didn't you say something?"

"You were my best friend," she explains. "And you had a thing for Quinn," she shrugs and pouts a little as sadness seeps into her tone. "I didn't have a chance."

Jaw slacking, he gapes down at her. "_You _didn't have a chance!?" He half-screeches. "How can you say that, Britt?"

Brittany seems so small as she keeps her head down, her fingers wrapping around the ties of his sweatpants. All Santiago wants to do is wrap her up into a tight embrace.

"Quinn was the head cheerleader, San. I was the second in command and all the guys wanted her and not me. Anyone who couldn't get her just went for me because they thought I was easy."

Anger pulses through his veins and he clenches his jaw, dropping a hand to her jaw and tilting her whole face up. "That's bullshit, Britt."

"What, so you _didn't _have a thing for Quinn?"

His face drops. Shit. "Okay, yeah, I did... But had I known you had feelings for me it would've been different."

"But you didn't have feelings for me and you couldn't force them on yourself."

"Britt, that wasn't what I meant," he sighs and shakes his head. "I meant that I had thought about you like that... I had thought about liking you but knowing you were going after Sam, Mike and Puck, I knew I didn't have a chance with you," he explains, stroking up the side of her neck to lay his hand over the hinge of her jaw. "I thought about it but we were best friends and I wanted to have that more than I wanted to be with you because I didn't have that chance." A beat of silence between them. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

Brittany narrows her eyes, staring up at him, not quite understanding. "So you did just wanna be friends with me... That's what you're saying?"

"No, Britt," his head moves from left to right as his eyes flutter, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

He knows what he's trying to say, but he knows by the way Brittany's staring at him that it's not coming out right. See, this is hard. This is really hard because he can't deny he had feelings for Quinn because he did, but he did also have feelings for Brittany at the beginning. The only reason they didn't stay was because he knew that he would never _ever _have a chance with her. Or thought he didn't anyway.

He's not going to lie either, and say that he had feelings for her all along because he didn't. Maybe somewhere within him there was that lingering tingle, or that leftover remnant of his crush on her that sparked all these years later, but he wants to tell her that he did think about it. That isn't a lie; that's true. For three weeks when they first met he couldn't stop thinking about how amazingly strange that girl was.

But he doesn't know how to put that into words without making it sound bad. Still, he tries his best. "I'm saying that I didn't think I'd have a chance with you at all, so when I first met you, I decided to become your friend because I couldn't be anything else."

She stares at him for a long moment, but then her face relaxes, eyes softening and the corners of her lips curve upward. Her hands begin toying with the ties on his sweatpants again and he chuckles as his other hand comes up to cup the other side of her face, adding a little pressure until Brittany's looking up at him, meeting his eyes and smiling at him with such affection that he almost purrs like a damn cat when she leans into his touch.

Then he starts thinking about them, and the question that's been on the very forefront of his mind since he woke up this morning proves too much to keep in anymore.

"So..." He starts, stroking his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. "Now that we both know how we feel about each other, and... Stuff happened..." Brittany giggles, grin widening when he shoots her a wink. "What does this mean... For us?"

Brittany wraps her hand around the ones on her face, pulling them into her lap where she plays with his fingers. "Well... I hope it means good things," she replies, her voice small but light and happy. "I mean," she lifts a shoulder and meets his eye. "I know I wanna do that again."

Santiago smirks, in spite of his fluttering stomach, and chews on his bottom lip coyly. Even though he was pretty sure this was how the conversation between them was going to go, hearing it is like, a million times better. It makes him feel excited, happy and nervous but mostly just the first two. Brittany actually wants him back. They're actually going to give it a go.

Holy fuck, that feels good.

"So," he draws out the word through a growing smile. "Does that mean you'll want breakfast again, too?"

"_Mmhmm_," Brittany hums in approval, rubbing her thumbs across the back of Santiago's hand. "I'll be expecting those eggs every morning from now on," she continues, shooting him a wink.

His stomach tightens, but he's so focused on the flurry of images of him and Brittany in the future, waking up to each other in bed, kissing each other good morning, eating breakfast together and then maybe sneaking in a quick make out session before they head off to work, that he doesn't really feel anything but complete elation.

"Okay," he beams, grinning so wide.

Brittany bounces a little, staring at him and takes in a deep breath as she says, "Okay," in reply.

There's still some uncertainty, though. There's still that little pulling feeling in the center of his stomach that doesn't quite know what this is between them. That doesn't quite know what this officially makes them, or what it means for them now. They like each other, they know that, and both of them want to give 'them' a go, but there's still some problems like the fact that Santiago's flying back to New York in a few hours, or that his work schedule is so packed he rarely ever gets a break.

But he doesn't want to think about these things. They've only just got together and to be honest, he just wants to enjoy having Brittany. He wants to enjoy being with her, touching her, kissing her. He just wants to enjoy the closeness of having Brittany as his girlfriend and if he starts thinking about the outstanding problems, then it'll just screw up his head.

So instead, he squeezes her hands, rubs his thumbs across her knuckles and says, "So..."

Brittany just grins up at him, her eyes sparkling and smile bright, and he knows she's about to say something that's going to make him kiss her. Yet he holds back, because as much as he wants to kiss her, he wants to hear what she has to say.

"So..." she straightens up, clears her throat and wets her lips. "You should probably clear some space in your closet for me in a couple of months."

A short chortle of disbelief bursts from his lips, and he blinks at her. "Really? Why's that?"

Brittany chews on her bottom lip, slowly pushing off the stool and on to her feet until she can wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with the hairs at the back of his neck. She inches forward, their noses squashing together, foreheads touching too, and breathes in, eyes fluttering shut, and he just snakes his arms around her waist and watches her, in all her perfection until those bright blue orbs are staring into his dark ones once more.

"Well, you probably won't want me taking all your clothes," she explains and his heart jumps damn near out his chest, knowing exactly what she's suggesting. "Although I do think I'd look pretty good in your Giants jersey," she adds as an afterthought, eyes drifting off briefly but flicking back to him, a little darker now. "Don't you?"

His hand presses to the small of her back as he lowers his mouth to hers, murmuring, "Fuck yeah, you would," on to her lips before he closes the gap between them and kisses her.

/

**The End**

**So... What you guys think? Leave a comment if you can, and if not, thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! :)**


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